Mesquite squite squite. ...Forgive me I'm freshly smoked.
You get stoned.
Slow down and use some lubricant.
When he found out, Santa shouldn't have gotten mad, he only had his elf to blame. Now Santa won't forgive him until elf freezes over.
Deer God, please forgive me of my sins.
His homemade Bris-kit.
The snow on top of it has melted.
Turnip for what
YAAAAAAAAALE