If not the tunnel of love, then what? The tunnel of hate?
Love/hate-black/white squares on the chessboard floor columned door, where I go no more 'cuz I know what's in that store.
Who are you?
Best question to ask is not Who, but What, then give it a follow up of Where without your stare.
And why can't you just drink the beer straight from the can like the rest of us forest-dwellers?
Because I drink the nectar of trees.
When?
If you stop handpuppeting me fangy by the scruff of my neck for a moment I might meowswer.
fin.
How did we get to seven...