# 70-something

me, kettle?
oh.
wow.
i see my speck, and raise you a log.
i am yet alert to enumerate.
hmm.
is this the classic?
I call.
you.
out.
logger.
"pot," I call you: 'black'.
And tomorrow, and tomorrow,
and the petty pace, you have now defined.
called.
and raised.
check.
and 'checkmate'.
eat it.
get off me.
resentment devours sympathy.
I hope he's right, and the novacain suits the toothless.