Horse around elsewhere, my little cabbages.
Don't spray it, they admonish in unison.
The island station tilted ominously into space.
You're cancelling my overtime?
I have mouths to feed, a sub-prime loan and fogging up my tail.
Then succeed the dogleg to a tight green, but don't miss the
Opportunity for horse fantasies and heat transfer just outside the cabin
Is but a burning house --
Who shouldst be spared burning?
Matter? The little island? Leading?
Allowed snagging is my shaky basis.
Leading is my sturdiest chassis.
What is a parsec, anyway?