C
couchcommander
Guest
Don't ya be saying nasty things about me Bierkenstocks! When we bees sailing where the sun tis so hot it melt the gold right outta ya teeth, then you'll be tink'in "why is ol Mast Hugger Hannibal's feet so cool, and would'ca set yer eyes upon that posture of 'is?"
Yaaarrr!
Yaaarrr!