It happened last Saturday. Evan and I were camping in my back yard. We were telling jokes and eating pizzas when we heard an odd, large noise coming from the television. We thought it sounded like a talking penquin.
Bravely, Evan farted to the penquin. I heard tiny music and fell to my friend. Right before my eyes I saw Evan disappear and then reappear as a peculiar, 259,000,000–foot dog. I drove! But then the dog punched and said, “I'm starving. Got any pop tarts?”
“Wa-wah-where's Evan?” I stammered.
“What's wrong with you? I am Evan!”
That's when I fainted.
Scarborough Taunts Trump For Being 'Led Around' By His Staff - Scarborough went off on a passionate rant about Republicans blocking any deal on the government shutdown -- and Trump's inability to lead. "You really ca...
25 minutes ago