God: *sigh* Fine. Mouths. But they'll talk. A lot.
One gets lots of annoyed hangups, the other has a lot of annoying hangups.
He exploded.
Because every time i talk dirty to my wife she tells me to go to hell.
Because it doesn't have any hands.
I'd tell you happy birthday, but to me, you've been dead for centuries
Because it crashes all the time.
No Drought.**
One is pale, bitter and starts off with lots of head and the other one is a beer.
The drummer is drooling equally from both sides of his mouth.
Because he ate his pillow.
A dog: He feeds me, takes care about me, gives me shelter... He is God. A cat: He feeds me, takes care about me, gives me shelter... I am God.
Damn, I burnt one."
Wax off
Mrs Hawking