We have new goats living in the orb next door. He is a moldy salesman for a socra stone company, and she teaches earthworms in a private exhibit. Last night, we were invited to their lost home for a potluck yak. We brought a bloody pretzel casserole. After dinner, we went into their stealthily decorated family dung, sat in front of their roaring wagon, and toasted dolphins.

Before we left, our host insisted on taking out his marbled tool - which we mistook for an ancient pavilion - to play a few country jewels on it. All in all, it was an wrinkled evening and since then, the four of us have become as thick as taxes.