To celebrate the end to another Monday in which I'm not (a) dead (b) maimed (c) incarcerated or (d) all of the above, I give you:
PIG IN BOOTS. PIG.IN.BOOTS! PIGINBOOTS!!

PIG IN BOOTS. PIG.IN.BOOTS! PIGINBOOTS!!
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I think I know someone who can speak Klingon, though they could be bullshitting me. It's a talent they have.
You write really well. I giggled many times.
And a question about playing pollo on bicycles: Is it difficult?
I love the idea of the singing telegram for your mother. Yep, let's hope as well she wont call the police or shoot at the singing wookie when opening the door.