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Fantastic word game

Jackrabbit starts and roadrunner stops suggest two possible additions to the FWG critter roster, but it might be challenging to confine them to the barnyard.

Another problem would be that dang coyote dropping anvils toward the roadrunner from the roof. The poor unmentionable padlocked inside would be terrified by the sound.
 
The barnyard is teeming with party animals.

Yes, they include a donkey and an elephant. (It's not clear how the latter got there.)
 
Party animals like the elephant are, indeed, welcome at the RCM Ranch fer now, but only because we're purdy cool with the guy who brought his falcon.

That's how I ended up with that monstrosity o' a beast sittin' in the yard, High Chief.
 
"Flatblastin' your short-term enemies" and "just flippin' the bird," written with the final "g" replaced by an apostrophe, make me wonder if Ed and quad are actual rednecks or are just imitating rosecitymedia's exaggerated Texas redneck manner of speakin', er, speaking.
 
Speaking of the redneck, here I am.

Imitation is the greatest form o' flattery. I'm a lil' misty right now, I'll tell you what.
 
Both Lola n' Danny stand at the guard just waitin' on someone to get out of line.

Last thing anyone wants to do is to start a day on the wrong side o' a hell-bent heifer n' a stubborn ol' jackass, fer sure n' certain.
 
Skeptical of tradin' in her faithful, milk dispensin', prancin' n' dancin', number one in her heart unmentionable?

I mean, Lola's a lovely heifer n' all, but jumpin' gee willikers, compadre. Yer gonna end up causin' the dairy dispensary to churn buttermilk, talkin' like that. 🤦
 
Infrequent occasions in gameplay require me to mention certain non-branded RCM critters, but that's ok, 'cuz that's fair game.

The agreement was, n' the one I'm follerin' is, if'n it has an RCM brand on it, it's off limits fer me to bring up. Ev'ryone WITH the brand is now classified as "unmentionable". Purdy simple. Someone else mentions one o' 'em, no foul, n' the corner office retains its cobwebs.
 
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Midway through this submission, I chugged a tallboy o' Miller Lite from the Yeti cooler, n' forgot what I was going to say.
 
Chugging along is quite easy, yer Excellence of Excess, when you ain't got a person tryin' to control ev'ry single aspect o' the game.

Ev'ryone here' deserves the credit fer keepin' the Fantastic ship afloat, and thanks to you fer givin' the game another chance. All I really did was help steer (no pun intended) us in a new die-rection. Y'all took it from there.
.
 
The game was more to my liking when heifers and interns were hooking up, hens were knowing it all, and heads were exploding, but that's all in the past and I guess I'll just have to get used to it.
 


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