Come on, ma, can I borrow the keys?. My generation is carpooling with doom and disease. Buckle up, skipper, the new American Asterix. You're riding shotty with Jesus of Nascareth.
Dear Sirs. If the pavement comes alive on Flatbush Ave with toothy smiles. Comprised of traffic cones and manholes become eyes. And birds burst into flames while singing Satan's praises.