On the surface, the Fleming family were a robust and hearty clan; loyal devout and true - not to mention plentiful. Having bred redheads like jackrabbits, the Flemings spoke never of their nefarious plan: to create an army of translucent automatrons bent on planetary destruction.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
"Carrots! CARROTS!"
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The man and his wife had been fighting all day and went to bed still angry at each other.
"Good night, mother of SEVEN," he sniped.
"Good night...father of ONE," she replied.
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