A calembour may be just a pun, but a pal of lore is just a bun! ; )

Then, those unicellular organisms who could only dream of such fantastic worlds in their wildest imaginations, found themselves, even if only for a moment of a moment, living as neuston—beloved cousins of the jellies, shrimp, bugs, and water weeds who, themselves, could never imagine such thinking—such sinking.

If a prodrome had preceded the news about kitty’s eyes turning opposite hues, as long as there was no health to lose, meds would be passed joy’s greys and blues.

Dearest date, regarding conversation about bureaucracy, democracy, or even squattocracy, bury it, demolish it, and squash it—because cracies give my cranium the crazies!

I appreciated his pawkiness via his presents in noting that even though I had no green thumb, I still could find happiness in watering picturesque blooms. ; )