Flowers

Flowers are pretty. Some even have purple or velvet in them. They are nice when you look at them and also to smell. Yeah, flowers: ooh, they are neat. I really like them when I’m cruisin’ down the boulevard in my Cadillac. 

Here I am: just cruisin’ down the boulevard in my Cadillac, for all of time. A pedestrian on the side of the street now addresses me: “Sir, do you like to smell flowers when you’re writing an essay and crusin’ in your Cadillac down the boulevard?” 

“Yes, I do,” I answer; “especially then; because, then, the smell is so good. I repeat: the smell of flowers is very good when I’m crusin’ down the boulevard in my Cadillac while composing this essay.” 

Now, to demonstrate the fact that I am the truth and the light, I cruise past a series of flowers, very quickly at a close distance, and enjoy their scent while noting down their names here below: 

Nosegays, bouquets, wreaths, garlands, and bunches. 

All of them smell good, unlike your earthly father. Marigolds are really pretty. Also lady fingers are a treat. Chrysanthemums, oh girl, they are bootylicious. And I like to receive roses on any holiday. 

Yeah, flowers are the thing that you grow in the dirt. They are great for winning the attention of any woman whom you desire to start a family with. 

Plus, do you see this grave plot that we parked in front of? Its headstone has an inscription that tells us what we can expect to find buried beneath it. It says: “Kangaroo Bones.”