Boo-hoo, the rock doves don't like the splash when a car drives through a puddle in the alley below my kitchen windowsill. On which today's dove leaves his breakfast.
When I shoo him away, trying out my new slingshot, he gives me look like "Hey, leave me alone, fella. I'm just trying to stay out of the rain."
These verbal rock doves are the worst kind.
All of which, I hope, helps me come up with final exam tasks for my expository writing class.
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