I hope he's not a terrorist. Then again, I doubt he's out to do us any mischief. Probably just some harmless hippie who fried too many brain cells on some plant substance or other.
Is he trying to *pet* my whales?
By the time I storm outside, he's climbing out of the tank. I start yelling at him, but suddenly I'm distracted.
His wet clothes, clinging to him like they were painted on, leave nothing to the imagination.
Damn, I bet even Gracie thought he was hung.
