My neighbor is a GASBAG. Or, is he an AIRBAG? Gas is definitely more toxic. So, most likely, GASBAG!
Everyone has at least one GASBAG in their life. And everyone has an AIRBAG!
He is excessively pumped up with helium so that he can drivel on for hours and hours. He talks incessantly without pause. He can yack about nothing and everything. If he does not let all his "gas" out, then he will offer a reprisal and continue droning on and on and on. If he was pumped with air, then he would deflate in a shorter amount of time. He is definitely inflated with GAS. He is colorless, odorless, and tasteless. He is monatomic.
It is a 104 degrees on the heat index scale at eight o'clock in the morning. And GASBAG neighbor selects this opportunity to detail his Sunday. By the half-hour, covering the entire twenty-four hours. His bike ride alone dragged on for 95 minutes. Miles per hour. Pedal turns per minute. Mileage. Ground covered. Route. Gears. Gears uphill. Gears downhill. Gears on level ground. Seat height. Spokes. Number of spokes. Handle bars. Tape. Cost of bike. Cost of new seat. Cost of aluminum. My mind is in neutral. My mind is on coast. Why did I have to get trapped by the GASBAG? I have nowhere to go but inside. I continue listening. I am wishing, at this moment, that GASBAG was an AIRBAG. He would surely be running out of air by now.
Hey, GASBAG, did YOU forget that I am a professional Bi-athlete? I get PAID to ride my bike!
Everyone has at least one GASBAG in their life. And everyone has an AIRBAG!
He is excessively pumped up with helium so that he can drivel on for hours and hours. He talks incessantly without pause. He can yack about nothing and everything. If he does not let all his "gas" out, then he will offer a reprisal and continue droning on and on and on. If he was pumped with air, then he would deflate in a shorter amount of time. He is definitely inflated with GAS. He is colorless, odorless, and tasteless. He is monatomic.
It is a 104 degrees on the heat index scale at eight o'clock in the morning. And GASBAG neighbor selects this opportunity to detail his Sunday. By the half-hour, covering the entire twenty-four hours. His bike ride alone dragged on for 95 minutes. Miles per hour. Pedal turns per minute. Mileage. Ground covered. Route. Gears. Gears uphill. Gears downhill. Gears on level ground. Seat height. Spokes. Number of spokes. Handle bars. Tape. Cost of bike. Cost of new seat. Cost of aluminum. My mind is in neutral. My mind is on coast. Why did I have to get trapped by the GASBAG? I have nowhere to go but inside. I continue listening. I am wishing, at this moment, that GASBAG was an AIRBAG. He would surely be running out of air by now.
Hey, GASBAG, did YOU forget that I am a professional Bi-athlete? I get PAID to ride my bike!
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