AHhaaaa.Thou doth doubt me. I need not renew said license, I speaketh truths.
Cheeto my ass. I knew it. I WAS attacked by a cheetah weeks past. You. You. You, Mrs. Doubtcrier.
Would you care for a beverage to wash down that side order of crow?
Do you see that concrete abuttal? That, my path-less-traveled carpatriots, is as they say, NEW.
Uhhuh, yeah. Not a cheetah? Pwah!
Why then does the government throw money at this particular back of hoe? Yes, yes, of course, stimulation. But throwing money at this shovel ready ho'back for stimulation? Wait…that doesn’t look right...
Rack the focus. Wait....
The moat. Focus on the moat, stupid. M.O.A.T. A preliminary line of defense against, say, raging, wild animals that randomly target unsuspecting trail riders out minding their own business in the thick of the city, never once suspecting from the dark shadows might spring…a, a, ah Cheetah!
It is the city after all. Rapist, robber, rebel rouser, yes, but never a cheddar orange feline poised to attack Me-OW.
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