Gandalf the Grey enters a thread:
Gandalf slouches into the room, plops himself down on the sofa and puts his feet up on the coffee table, knocking off magazines and a Meissen porcelain Frodo figurine. He blows his nose on the curtains, spits into a handy corner, and grinds out his Lucky Strike into the carpet.
**Gar! Birdland! That last post was the ravings of an idiot!**
Bethberry:
New York is where I want to stay,
I get allergic smelling hay!
I just adore a penthouse view,
Keep the Old Forest, just give me Park Avenue!
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