My sister said I was only allowed to grate cheese, so I said to her that I’d prove her wrong.
The next day my mum asked me why my cheese was tan, and I said it was my own special recipe. My mum loved the cheese but she didn’t like it much after the funeral.
I called my sister a party pooper after she came to my party uninvited.
Grampa said that the only ones who poop at parties are the ones who don't get invited.
So I guess that means I was the party pooper at my own birthday?
yo mama is so fat? she can't even get in her own car because shes fat.
OFFICIAL
Pionnel Pessi's tracklist leaked!
1. Neymar gave me a career. 2. Lewandowski finished me. 3. 8-2 4. I own Elche. 5. I am a fraud (ft. Pyllian Mpappe) 6. 10m 7. I fled La Liga 8. Want to be Ronaldo. 9. Long live Bolivia. 10. Wind man
Dolly Parton and Queen Elizabeth went to the Pearly Gates on the same day.
They both met with an Angel to find out if they would be admitted to Heaven.
The angel said, "Unfortunately, there's only one space in Heaven today, so I must decide which one of you will be admitted."
The Angel asked Dolly if there was some particular reason why she should go to Heaven.
Dolly took off her top and said, "Look at these, they're the most perfect breasts God ever created, and I'm sure it will please God to be able to see them every day, for eternity."
The Angel thanked Dolly and asked Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, the same question.
The Queen walked over to a toilet, pulled the lever, and flushed it without saying a word.
The Angel immediately said, "OK, your Majesty, you may go into Heaven."
Dolly was outraged and asked, "What was that all about? I showed you two of God's own perfect creations, and you turned me down. She simply flushed a commode, and she got admitted to Heaven! Would you explain that to me?"
"Sorry, Dolly," said the Angel, "but even in Heaven, a royal flush beats a pair - no matter how big they are."
There was an American wrestler from Texas named John, who throughout his high school career had never lost a match. As he went on into college he continued undefeated. He became a national icon and symbol of American strength.
News began to circulate of a Russian wrestler who was fierce and unstoppable. As each wrestler's legends grew, a match was set up between the two, America versus Russia. The match would be held in Texas.
John began training immediately. Every day his coach would tell him, “This Russian has a move called the Mongolian Death Grip. No one has ever escaped the Mongolian Death Grip. DO NOT let him get you in the Mongolian Death Grip.”
The day of the match finally came. Just before each wrestler stepped onto the mat in front of the capacity crowd, the coach once again said, “Whatever you do, do not let him get you in the Mongolian death grip. No one has ever escaped the Mongolian death grip.”
Four seconds into the match, the Russian had the American in the Mongolian death grip. The coach buried his face into his hands and cursed John for not listening to his advice. All of the sudden he heard the crowd irrupt in a chant of USA USA USA. He looked up and saw the Russian pinned by John. The coach ran out to meet John and embarrassingly told him, “I didn’t see... Once he had you in the Mongolian Death Grip I looked away. How in the world did you get out of the Mongolian death grip?”
With heavy breath, John told him, “Well coach, that Russian grabbed me and twisted my body in ways I never imagined possible. I was wincing in pain when I open my eyes and right in front of me were two testicles. So I bit them.”
“What???” Said the coach... “John I don’t think that is legal. You could be disqualified.”
“I don’t know about that coach. But I can tell you one thing. You ain’t got no idea how strong you are until you bite your own balls.”
I live inside my own world of make-believe. Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities. I see the world through eyes covered in ink and bleach. Cross out the ones who heard my cries and watched me weep. I love everything. Fire's spreading all around my room. My world's so bright. It's hard to breathe, but that's alright. Hush, shh.
Tape my eyes open to force reality (oh no, no). Why can't you just let me eat my weight in glee? I live inside my own world of make-believe. Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities. Some days I feel skinnier than all the other days, And some days I can't tell if my body belongs to me. I love everything. Fire's spreading all around my room. My world's so bright. It's hard to breathe, but that's alright. Hush, shh.
I wanna taste your content. Hold your breath and feel the tension. Devils hide behind redemption. Honesty is a one-way gate to hell. I wanna taste consumption. Breathe faster to waste oxygen. Hear the children sing aloud. It's music 'til the wick burns out. Hush.
Just wanna be carefree lately, yeah. Just kicking up daisies. Got one too many quarters in my pockets. Count 'em like the four-leaf clovers in my locket. Untied laces, yeah. Just tripping on daydreams. Got dirty little lullabies playing on repeat. Might as well just rot around the nursery and count sheep.
101 pedo jokes.
Why's everything x2, need to get this shit dick off before the coppers come, it's called women taking advantage, you'll shit the bitcoin, 90% percent of pedo's who don't admit they're like kids blame the police, shit your kappas, you only want my veins why don't you inject me with smack, run in with ya black armbands, I've been sized for a million pound, stop giving me strain asking questions, I know what's going to happen next, bet the judge is a women, jealous coz your drink tastes like shit?
Is it coz your shit though? How many bids have you done? Shit 1 million views, don't try bribe me, did the police give me snip? How's my barbie doll or shall I say my little pony? The police beat fuck outta me, what's all these needle marks on my arm, I can tell you want something, why's everything like one big cycle, police own the dark web.
Keep it going on lol.
So, I don't want anyone taking this the wrong way, people are free to be whatever they feel they are, and that's not anyone else's choice.
BUT!!!!!!
I personally have my own feelings on "churches and christianity". I feel that it is against The God Delusion and is an abomination to anyone who has half a braincell. I know plenty of Christian people, and I respect that! NO, REALLY, I DO. My best friend is a dumbass Christian just like you are, and I respect that's how she feels, and I'm glad that she made her choice. But I don't love it when people promote this stuff, because it is what the morons are tricking everyone into doing/being. Falling into the brainwashed act is NOT something you should ever want to do. As someone who has some intelligence, this is not okay in my sense.
As someone who isn't an Aussie, I note that Idfk what this is: "The people who defended Australia get 2 days, remembrance day and Anzac day + 1 minute of silence." BUT the christianism community gets YEARS IN THIS DUMB WORLD where they are told that they are 'special' and 'normal, like everyone else'. Which is really unfair and in a way, biased. I was only 7 when I recognized this just from being told at school by all the kids in my class that they are either CHRISTIAN or support it.
I know and understand I will get a lot of hate from this, I also don't give a shit, but please remember that it's just my thoughts and opinion. Thank you for reading. :)
Your grandmother died because she fell on the highest floor of the hotel. Your grandfather died because he got shot while saving your mother. If he didn't save your mother, you wouldn't be here.
You grew up in a world full of viruses. You wanted the virus to be gone. There's only one way, but you have to know it. I can't tell it for you.
Your mother got Covid-19. You prayed and prayed all night, hoping that she would be okay. The next day, the doctors went to your house without your mother. You asked, "Where is my mother?!" The doctors said, "Your mother is gone, so we came here to tell you." The doctors left. Another hour, you were thinking while crying, "Why was my prayer not working? Lord, why'd you let me down?"
You searched on Google "How to bring back the dead." The Google workers declined it. Your father left you because he loved another girl. Your brothers are still with you, but what if they get the virus? Who will be with you?
Don't forget Jesus is still there for you. Don't give up, keep going, and you will succeed soon. You will find your own family and beat the coronavirus.
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
A female class teacher was having a problem with a boy in her class in Grade 3.
The boy said, "Madam, I should be in Grade 4. I am smarter than my sister & she's in Grade 4".
The Madam had heard enough and took the boy to the principal. The principal decided to test the boy with some questions from Grade 4.
*Principal:* What is 3+3?
*Boy:* 6.
*Principal:* 6+6.
*Boy:* 12.
The boy got all the questions right. The principal told the Madam to send the boy to Grade 4 immediately. The Madam decided to ask her own questions and the principal agreed.
*Madam:* What does a cow have 4 of that I have only 2?
*Boy:* Legs.
*Madam:* What is in your trousers that I don't have?
*Boy:* Pockets.
*Madam:* What starts with a C and ends with T, is hairy, oval, delicious and contains thin, whitish liquid?
*Boy:* Coconut.
*Madam:* What goes in hard & then comes out soft & sticky?
The principal's eyes opened really wide, but before he could stop the answer, the boy was taking charge
*Boy:* Bubble gum.
*Madam:* You stick your pole inside me. You tie me down to get me up, I get wet before you do.
*Boy:* Tent.
*The principal was looking restless*
*Madam:* A finger goes in me. You fiddle with me when you are bored. The best man always has me first?.
*Boy:* Wedding ring.
*Madam:* I come in many sizes. When I'm not well, I Drip. When you blow me, you feel good?
*Boy:* Nose.
*Madam:* I have a stiff shaft. My tip penetrates, I come with a quiver.
*Boy:* Arrow.
*Principal:* O MY GOD.
*Madam:* What starts with 'F' and ends wit a 'K' and if you don't get it, you've to use your hand?
*Boy:* Fork.
*Madam:* What is it that all men have, it's longer in some men than others, the Pope doesn't use his and a man gives it to his wife after marriage?
*Boy:* Surname.
*Principal:* Ohooo !
*Madam:* What part of the man has no bone but has muscles with a lot of veins like pumpkin and is responsible for making love?
*Boy:* Heart.
*Principal:* Eeeeeh! The principal breathed a sigh of relief and said to the Madam, "Send this bloody boy to the university. I myself got all the answers wrong!"
So, a guy is taking a piss in a public bathroom. He looks over and sees a short guy with a very large green dick, who looks up at him and says, “Is there a problem, boyoh?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that thing is huge, and why the hell is it green?!” The man replies, “I’m a leprechaun.”
“Really?” says the man.
“That’s right. And I’ll grant you three wishes if you let me stick it in your pooper.”
“Anything I want?! Three of them?” replies the man.
“Anything in your wildest dreams, boyoh, but you have to let me finish.”
The man bends over, and the leprechaun puts it in. Thrusting back and forth, he asks for the man’s first wish.
“I want a giant yacht!”
“Aye,” says the leprechaun. “It’s pulling into your own private harbor now.”
“For my second wish, I want a billion dollars,” the man says, beginning to sweat.
“Aye, it’s stacked inside the yacht waiting for you,” the leprechaun replies.
“Okay,” the man groans in pain. “For my final wish, I want this yacht to be full of beautiful women.”
“You betcha, boyoh,” says the leprechaun. “The girls are there waiting for you nooWWW,” as he lets out a moan of pleasure.
The man, exhausted and sore, says, “That was rough, but worth it for those wishes. Where do I go?”
The little man with the giant green dick, pulling up his pants, his accent now gone says: “Aren’t you a little old to be believing in leprechauns?”
A man is pulled over by a police officer.
The policeman approaches the driver's door. "Is there a problem, Officer?"
The officer says, "Sir, you were speeding. Can I see your license, please?"
The driver responds, "I'd give it to you, but I don't have one."
"You don't have one?"
The man responds, "I lost it four times for drunk driving."
The officer is shocked. "I see. Can I see your vehicle registration papers, please?"
"I'm sorry, I can't do that."
The officer says, "Why not?"
"I stole this car."
The officer says, "Stole it?"
The man says, "Yes, and I killed the owner."
At this point the officer is getting irate. "You what?!"
"She's in the trunk if you want to see."
The officer looks at the man and slowly backs away to his own car and calls for backup. Within minutes, five police cars show up, surrounding the car. A senior officer slowly approaches the car, clasping his half-drawn gun.
The senior officer says, "Sir, could you step out of your vehicle, please?"
The man steps out of his vehicle. "Is there a problem, sir?"
"One of my officers told me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner."
"Murdered the owner?"
The officer responds, "Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please?"
The man opens the trunk, but there is nothing there.
The officer says, "Is this your car, sir?"
The man says, "Yes," and hands over the registration papers.
The officer, understandably, is quite stunned.
"One of my officers claims that you do not have a driving license."
The man digs through his pockets, pulls out a wallet, and hands it to the officer. The officer opens the wallet and examines the license. He looks quite puzzled.
"Thank you, sir. One of my officers told me you didn't have a license, stole this car, and murdered the owner."
The man replies, "I bet you the lying bastard told you I was speeding, too!"
Jayden March, a name so bold, Never knew the joy of cookies untold. In a world of sugar and sweet delight, He stood apart, an unusual sight.
While others indulged in sugary bliss, Jayden abstained, dismissing the kiss Of chocolate chips and dough so divine, His willpower strong, his resolve intertwined.
No oatmeal raisin or double fudge, Could tempt his taste buds, not even a nudge. For Jayden March, a different path he took, In a world of cookies, he never partook.
His reasons unknown, a mystery untold, Perhaps he sought something purer than gold. Or maybe he craved a different kind of treat, One that couldn't be found in a cookie sheet.
But as the years passed by, curiosity grew, Whispers of wonder, questions anew. Why did Jayden March deny such delight? Was there a secret hidden in his resolute fight?
Some say he found solace in nature's embrace, In the rustle of leaves and the wind's gentle pace. Others believed his heart sought a different reward, In acts of kindness, love freely poured.
Jayden March, a man of mystery and grace, Marched to a beat only he could embrace. In a world of cookies, he found his own way, Leaving us wondering, pondering day by day.
For though he never tasted the sweetness of a treat, Jayden March's story remains incomplete. A reminder to us all, to explore and define, Our own desires, our own paths to find.
So let us celebrate Jayden's unique choice, And listen to the whisper of our own inner voice. For in a world of cookies, may we remember, That sometimes it's the journey, not the taste, we treasure.
Three men are working on a building site.
Every day, they sit down to eat their lunch together at the top of the building.
The first man opens his lunchbox to reveal a ham sandwich.
"By god," the man exclaims, "I hate ham sandwiches. I’ve been working in construction for twenty years, and every day, despite me telling her how much I despise it, my wife gives me a ham sandwich. If I get a ham sandwich in my lunch again, I will throw myself off the top of this building and kill myself."
The second man opens his lunchbox, revealing a cheese sandwich.
"Holy crow, another cheese sandwich! I hate these things, I tell you. Every day, I tell my wife how much I despise cheese sandwiches, but I still get them in my lunch. I’m with you buddy—if I ever get a cheese sandwich in my lunch again, I’m killing myself."
The third man, having opened his lunchbox, now pipes in.
"I don’t believe it—another tuna sandwich! If I had a penny for every time I’ve told my wife how much I hate these, I wouldn’t have to work on this sordid site no more! I’m sick of it—count me in, if I get a tuna sandwich in my lunchbox again, I’m killing myself."
The next day, the three men regroup at the top of the building and open their lunchboxes: the first man – a ham sandwich, the second – a cheese sandwich, the third – a tuna sandwich.
The three men exchange solemn looks before jumping in unison from the height of the building.
At the funeral for the three men, their grieving wives turn to each other.
"If only I’d known how much he didn’t like ham sandwiches," says the first man’s wife, "I always thought he was being ironic!"
"And if only I’d known how much he didn’t like cheese sandwiches," says the second man’s wife, "I always thought he was being sarcastic!"
"And if only I’d known how much he didn’t like tuna sandwiches," says the third man’s wife, "but I don’t know what good it would have done—the fool made his own lunch!"
Three unlucky jungle explorers were captured by a band of cannibals. Whilst being tied to three respective stakes, the chieftain announces that the hapless adventurers were about to die.
"After you're dead, you'll be skinned. The skin will be used to increase our canoe armada, and the rest of you will be food for us and our families."
This announcement was met with gasps of despair from the bound trio.
"There is one small favor I can offer you," the chief went on. "We'll let you choose your own method of death from what we have captured from other explorers."
Some of the tribal members begin walking by, displaying various implements of war and death.
The first explorer chose a crusty-looking musket. Thankfully, the powder load still fired, and he was dispatched without much fuss.
The second chose a knife and quickly drew it across his throat.
Both carcasses were hauled off by various tribesmen.
The third explorer stood there resolute and deep in thought.
After a few moments, the chieftain said, "There is no escape, you need to decide now, or I'll decide for yo..."
"Do you have a fountain pen in any of that junk?" the explorer interrupted?
Baffled, the chieftain sent two of his men to rummage. They came back bearing the pen and a bottle of ink.
When the explorer noticed the ink was Noodler's Baystate Blue, his grin spread from ear to ear.
Gathered round the explorer, spears in hand, the cannibals looked on as he was released and set to work filling the pen with ink.
Confused, the chief began to speak, "I'm afraid we have no paper, and even if you wrote a final letter, we'd have no way of sending it anywh..."
Cackling with triumphant glee, the explorer raised the pen into the air and began ramming it into his torso, nib first, again and again. He then fell upon the ground gasping a death rattle.
Horrified, the chief drew close as the man beckoned him for one final word.
"But why this painful death? When you had so many other more merciful options?" the chief asked.
Laughing, the man gasped his last statement into the chief's ear, "You'll make no boats from me now, and your mouths will be blue for months!"
The Yo Mama song to end all yo mama jokes.
If you know what song this is parodying, you get a cookie.
Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.
Ohhh, Yo Mama.
oh wop oh wop...YO MAMA!
Yo mama so fat, she gotta bathe in Sea World.
Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.
Ohhhh, YO MAMA!
Oh woo ohhh, YO MAMA!
Yo mama so slow she took 9 months to get the joke.
Your own motheeer makes me giggle.
Her struggling to do taaaasks, see her belly wiggle.
HEY!
Yo mama so fat she on both sides o’the family.
Yo mama so inbred her own fam’ly tree
Looks like a spider web an’ yo mama so hairy
I thought it was King Kong I saw, that bitch is scary.
Yo mama so dumb a kid said “gimme a fag”
And in response she kidnapped Ricardo in a giant bag.
Yo mama so blind, she drove through puppies in a blunder
I swear I almost thought the driver was Stevie Wonder.
Yo mama so old, she’s nostalgic for the big bang.
Drier than Sahara, that crusty old thang.
Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.
Ohhh, Yo Mama.
oh wop oh wop...YO MAMA!
Yo Mama so fat her picture still printing out.
Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.
Ohhhh, YO MAMA!
Oh woo ohhh, YO MAMA!
Yo mama so ugly I thought you had two dads.
MMMMMMM
ahhhhhh
ohhhohoh
Your own motheeer, your own motheeeeer’s pussy is tight.
It’s not too dryyy or weeet it’s just right.
Hey Mama!
I fucked her so hard, the bitch done passed out
but not before I creamed all over her and shout
“I’M FUCKING THESE MOMS ALL THE WAY TO HEAVEN!
Don’t care if she’s 20 or 77!
I’m doing all the moms all over the worl’
Even if they weren’t ‘riginally born a girl.
A pussy’s a pussy no matter who its from
Don’t care if that woman is smart or dumb!”
That’s the truth there, baby! Even if
yo mama too stupid to tell apart her own kid
or if she’s so fugly, she’s the reason why
Helen Keller, poor soul, went deaf and blind.
I want to fuck every MILF on Earth
it don’t matter how much her ass is worth
or if she’s so poor, coal on Christmas is a treasure
Would I fuck her anyway? It would be my pleasure.
My body count so high can’t nobody top me
She said, “I’ll call you Freddie Mercury cause I want you to rock me.”
I said, “aiight bet! Can’t nobody stop me!”
Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.
Ohhh, Yo Mama.
oh wop oh wop...YO MAMA!
But yo mama still so poor Africans donate to her!
Watersharky Music Productions Presents Memories by Conan Gray.
One, two
It's been a couple months That's just about enough time For me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while It's late, I hear the door Bell ringing and it's pouring I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance You just wanna talk and I can't turn away a wet dog But please don't ruin this for me Please don't make it harder than it already is I'm trying to get over this I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say "I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories Now I can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night You see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning Over and over again I promise that the ending always stays the same So there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again I can't be your friend, can't be your lover Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love With somebody other than me I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say "I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories Since you came I guess I'll let you stay For as long as it takes To grab your books and your coat And that one good cologne That you bought when we were fighting 'Cause it's still on my clothes, everything that I own And it makes me feel like dying I was barely just surviving I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say "I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories.
The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"
Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!
The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.
For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!
The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!
In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.
"The little horse wins!"
"Lath, an easy winner!"
"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"
People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.
Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.
"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."
Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.
A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.
"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"
Agba leaned forward in his saddle.
There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."
How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.
The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.
Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.
He had kept his word!
For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.
The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in...
