Fabius

I moved to Fabius and now I live next to a cow. That’s not a life, that’s a curse.

My cousin lives in Fabius. He says it’s peaceful. I say it’s just cows being loud.

I tried to escape Fabius by running. The cows chased me. I failed.

My grandma said she got lost in Fabius and ended up eating a sandwich at a gas station. I believe her.

I asked my teacher where Fabius was. She said, ‘That’s where my uncle lives. He’s still confused.’

Fabius is the kind of town that makes you question your entire life.

I live in Fabius and I’ve watched paint dry three times. That’s not a hobby, that’s a punishment.

Fabius is the only place where ‘bored’ is a full-time job.

I came to Fabius to relax. I now know what ‘relax’ means. It’s not fun.

Fabius roads are like the Earth’s veins, and they’re clogged with dirt and confusion.

I got lost on a Fabius road. I thought I was in a horror movie.

The roads in Fabius are so bad, my car cried and my dog left me.

People in Fabius think they’re rich. They’re not. They just think they are.

I went to Fabius and everyone said they had money. I said, ‘You have a cow.’

Fabius is like a rich kid who still wears the same pants every day.

The ‘little gangsters of Fabius’ think they’re from Syracuse, but they just smoke wacky Tobacky and drive Cadillacs that look like they were hit by a truck.

I saw a Fabius gangster try to talk like a real gangster. It was sad, and I had to leave.

The little gangsters of Fabius are just kids who think they’re tough, but they’re not.

Fabius is like a school bus with 80 hicks, 10 jerks, and 10 smart people who all left.

If Fabius was a movie, it would be the worst one ever. No one would watch it.

I moved to Fabius. I now know what a hick is. It’s not a compliment.