At 3 a.m., the cats held their nightly meeting. Socks proposed world domination again. Whiskers seconded. Mittens licked herself. By dawn, they’d knocked over a vase, shredded the blinds, and stared blankly into walls. Their human awoke, stepped on litter, and muttered, “Evil.” The cats purred. The plan was working.
Barack Obama, former Choom Gang member, told ESPN’s Michael Wilbon that he wishes his daughters had his street cred. “They don’t hoop any more, they’ve got no roll in their stroll. Hell, they were into the Jonas Freaking Brothers. Some days I worry that they take after my white half.”
Flush with anticipation, Vicky opened the door to greet her date, whom a friend had set her up with. There stood one pitiful, butt-ugly man. Chiding herself for being disappointed and shallow, Vicky determined to make the most of the evening, only to discover he had a personality to match.
Billy hated mimes. He loved poking fun at (shadowing) them until one day a vindictive mime replaced Billy’s shadow with a copy of his. After several embarrassing daylight incidents and a near arrest on obscenity charges, Billy began going out only at night. Soon he stopped going out at all.