Oh, Edmund, can it be true that I hold here in my mortal hand a nugget of purest green?
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Indeed you do, Percy. Except it’s not really a nugget, but more of a splat.
Yes, well, a splat today, but tomorrow who knows, or dares to dream?
Squeeze out the water for even more purity
Boil an egg in it for a truly unique experience.
Looks like a small lump of green putty I found in my armpit one midsummer morning
You should write a poem about that!
For a second I thought this was a picture from it’s always sunny in Philadelphia
