I don’t believe in ice cream.
“But… but… what about chocolate?!” you ask.
Doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in ice cream like I don’t believe in loofahs.
Come again? From the shower? Made of gourds? Like a sponge?
I say this scratching my succulent skin on the verge of Baskin Robbinses.
No, I don’t make sense, so stop pretending that I do, Alice!
We’re all a bit human said the Jabberwock, a cat, after all.
We’re all a bad mad, and I don’t believe in ice cream, oh well, says Joyce.
I’ll have that tea now, if you please. Half a cup.