It must be a drink and not a reflection of photopsia—for watering holes are for liquid factions—not liquefaction.

When the Ukrainian parrot encountered the scarlet macaw, it asserted, “Get lost to your volost, you red, bird-brained boob!”

Flora the florist, before compiling her florilegium on florilegia, faced her favorites for fragrant fellowship.

Splashes’ saltant drops may not catch duckies’ wondering eyes, but that which tossers miss still leads duckies to bready surprise. ; )

To trick the romantic beau, okay, with a pick from a trichromatic bouquet, let them think the hues of a Peep suggest amore is deep—and, then, oddly sing as petals even are plucked until their hope is bucked.