2018 has arrived and the first thing you should do is order the pizza until the spicy nachos reply to your email from nine months ago.
You can only read the labels of the ancient roads when Miley Cyrus slaps the cheeto dust into the roasting snow forts.
They say snowmen only wear pants when the sun rises from the sacred oceans.
Mountains shall walk the planet when the sand raises his voice to yell at swans of chicken squads.
It’s okay to clap in shoe stores when you need the moment to scream at the cash register because the public will soon begin to wonder why the pizza expanded.
You need to start a conversation with your toaster sometimes because the bread doesn’t lie to the window unless if the barbecue runs to the sauce.
It’s Easter everyday when the bunny screams for the hills because the chicken ate the lawnmower before the song played to the special eggs of the chocolate toucans from Saturday.
The wind blows when the clementine calls you from miles and miles of earth because the penguin is destined to see your waffles fly tomorrow after school.
It doesn't matter if your potato is missing because the shoe will eventually find it in the next fifteen years.
The butter cried to the treetops when the coffee whispered the instructions on the day the leaves flew into your uncle, but why does the moon refuse the casserole?