A poem dedicated to a rampaging bride-zilla…

The Hippo home stamped it’s hooves and bellowed,

It cried a fussy most horrible sound.

It’s senses had been flauted, panano-d, and cello’d.

Would the florist not see that when they had their original discussion about a colour scheme they should have KNOWN that the best compliment to cyan is blue?


And it’s heart hung heavy, unlike a bag of figs.

And it whimpered softly like an abandoned hound,

And it snorted in contempt not unlike a drift of pigs.

Would the caterer not see that by not matching the appetizer to the colour of the linens they were essentially sabotaging her special day? Would they?!!! Come ON!!!! australian casino

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