I will not suggest methods by which the newly-rescued virgin sacrifice can avoid the situation in the future.

His bone is covered with hair.

"Pimp my Death Star" is not a real show, and I'd better believe Grand Moff Tarkin knows this.

The paladin's alignment is not Lawful Anal.

What is so hard to understand about "the strawberry is broken?"

I have no vaginal memory.

I can't. I have a floppy bowel.

If there's one thing you can say about Isaac Newton, it's that he was made of meat.

I've had a lot of luck with severed heads.

Your vagina isn’t right. Something just isn’t right about it… It feels like maybe it’s too narrow—could we just widen the vagina out a little bit?

Badgers apparently can't spell "California."

I'm just setting a trap and hoping reality is naive enough to fall into it.

I finally figured out how pants work.

Now flip the elf and the fairy.

I need the rest of the donkey!

Make them in the shape of a buttock, get people used to them.

If we're going to have lunch, I'll need some underwear.

With friends like these, who needs mixed metaphors?

I need a pelvis. Who's got my pelvis?