o'toole syndrome
You can’t take the toolshed no more. You scream, you cry, and you end up with a headache the size of a football. Your face is a map of zits, and you spend all your money on a school fund just to feel important. Your wiener is smaller than a raisin, and you lie so much your dog doesn’t trust you anymore.
I screamed so loud in the toolshed my neighbors called the cops, and now I have a migraine the size of Texas.
My face is full of zits, and I spent all my money on a school fund just to look rich.
My wiener is smaller than a pencil, and my dog thinks I’m a fraud.