The only thing better than honey crisp is whatever grows in my back yard. You can take your gala-granny smith-red delicious loving ass and fuck off.
Woah, I know I spoke harshly, but to call me a red delicious lover… you’ve gone too far. As the prophet bugs bunny spake, “of course you know, this means war.”
You’re right. I spoke in anger befitting of a nigger. I’ll manage mind my emotional intelligence in the future.
I sincerely apologize.
Alright. War averted, but we’re still gonna be in some kind of DEFCON….
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