Two days later, there were twelve of them. 
Mother and little Suzie bravely turn their backs to the fiery, gaping maw of hell behind them and continue to dream about cardigans. 
Houston, we have lip gloss. 
And A little child shall lead them. 
All good cricketeers feed their bats tiny little bottles of gin. 
“Get saucy with me, sonny, and you’ll soon find out who put the nun in nunchucks.” 
“My, what big ice you have!” 
“Please, God, make us taller!” 
“Quick! Get back in the bathtub! I think I heard my husband!” 
“They never let me play with so many pretty things back at the Institute! Tee hee!” 
And nobody knows how he did it. 
Hello, I live in your small intestine! Please stop eating chalk!