The barking lot.
A Bark-aeologist
Son: "nice try, a chair!" Dad: "Nope. Our dog just died."
A: By the time you're finished with the breast and thighs, all you have left is the greasy box to put your bone in.
Two test-tickles.
Her: Over there. How far along is she Me: Her I'm shopping for my Thanksgiving pants. Her...
At a flea market!
Bark
Shoot him in June.
