The Killer Strawberries attended the symphony on Saturday night, a non-game day. The Butcher's daughter was all the rave with her oboe virtuosity. She obviously didn't get her chops from the old man.
The Butcher's daughter all a-glow in the Strawbs' finest.
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All the Butcher's talent must have leached from his body and migrated to Erin's somehow.
Just a reminder to the chick with big hair that any reproduction, rebroadcast or other use of the Killer Stawberries intellectual property is strictly prohibited without the express written consent of the Executive.
She can say she knows them. She can even say she has worn one of the their much-prized, dearly-loved yet non-availble jerseys. Any other suggestions or indications of further engagement or knowledge of their physical and psychological operation will be immediately and thoroughly denied.
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