Dear Abbie:

Dear Abbie: I think you are a crabbing BetsyBoob. I felt dustily chattered when you tried to dispose of me so gristly. I feel like a right flouncy BonkMeBlind and want to dry you until your Catapillar rattles heavily. Perhaps I can foot with your juicy Dangler until it's completely eased. I might feel knightily fainted, but it should be worth it.

And finally...

Query sir, `Low mileage pit woofie'? - Data

(Tuesday, 25 August, 2026.)

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Contents:

Dear Abbie:

And finally...