|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| So... What are you supposed to be? | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| Well, I'm a cow... What are you? | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| No, no, I mean are you a pet or-- | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| No... I'm a dairy cow... But I think I might also double as a sort of sex toy... | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| I'm missing the metaphor... How does being a dairy cow have anything to do with sex? | |
| | |
|
|
| | |
| Well, everyday my farmer comes out, sits down next to me, and squeezes my boob... One at a time... Plus he never leaves unti lwe're BOTH satisfied... | |
| | |
|
|
|
