I wish that damn groundhog would actually tell us when spring will be sprung. No more games with shadows. I know he’s not stupid: he’s not really afraid of his shadow. Based on my research, I also happen to know he can speak the Queen’s English. So Willy needs to stop all this crap and come clean! Oh God oh God oh God for the love of mud pies, when will spring be here?
You see, I have some stuff to do that doesn’t involve snow, and by stuff I mean life. There’s a great many people who have put off doing things because they can’t be bothered to expend the effort it would require in winter.
There’s a man north of here who has a body to bury: man gave the goosy eye so he done had to be shot. Problem is the ground has been frozen so he’s had to keep him in the freezer. Well, where’s he gonna put his pizza pops in the meantime? Damnit!
This fella just over yonder has been driving his winter beater for months now and the blasted thing has a coolant leak and a cracked head but damned if he’s gonna fix it because spring’s just around the corner and he can finally put his low profile civic with racing slicks back on the road and then all the bitches be jumpin’.
That plant just down the road has been storing all these stinky chemicals in a storage shed until the spring thaw so that no one will hardly notice when they dump all that goo into the river. They need that shed for poker night.
My point is that I hate groundhogs.
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