A little voice, however, advised me: 'Run for your life, your place is on that beach.'

Push the door, screamed Carlos. You dorkus! Oh. I grabbed the handle of the door and moved forward.

The soulles body about the bed did sprall, / While they about it on the King did call, / Adawing him as if he wer in swound: / But all for nought, he had his deadly wound.

[…] in roughly equal measure to the species of college bro and broette more likely to be found in a bar across the street.