If it's a pump, it's a sump pump. Why sump pump? Because it's pumpin' sumpin'. You could address the pump directly, "S'up pump?" Or: "Whattya sumpin', Pumpin'?" A pump is a heel and you are a pump. And by that, I mean "you" -- not you. Why do you always think it's you when I say, "You?" There is an increase in people getting hit by more animals falling out of trees than ever before. There is an increase in trains approaching more dysfunctional depots than ever before or other versions of the underworld. There is an increase in Taco Bell orders at the Wendy's drive-thru. So, what is de-creasing, you ask? Beside wash 'n' wear pleats and furrowed brows, it ain't much, Meshach-a-belly. Everything else is good and creased. I mean, look no farther than the tomatillo, the wasp, the bannister, the canister, and the purple martin. Eh? Add that to the rainfall totals and the result is: The deficits are so ridiculous, they become imaginary.
Imagine the imaginary. It ain't so easy, ain't it? Somewhere in the panhandle of Fla., is a man named Joe Shores, who once told a good ol' boy to go knocking door to door, and to say that "Joe Shores sent me." Sent you to do what? "Odd jobs." You can say that again. "'Scuse me?" All righty. "Huh?" All righty. If a Good Ol' Boy is a GOB then a man who defeats him is a GOB Stopper. I, personally, have many complaints about stoppers, eh? My landlady stole the stopper to the bathtub for instance and now I have to use a sock. Consider the shame felt by the sock, which was once a lovely place to glove the foot. Now it stoppers the tub. There are such devices known to mankind as flopper stoppers, dropper stoppers, and proper toppers. What goes where and who goes with who is a mystery to me, and if it ain't no mystery to you, I sure would like to hear from you, whoever you are. I'd call you a heel, and by that, I'd mean to pump you for information. What you got?