Like a child's innocense, like a late winter snowfllake, like a night of passion, a truce can be such a fleeting thing. The Wordle Friends must inevitably and regrettably turn against one another, recalling the image of a weeping Wesley Snipes pointing a handgun at the camera in that one meme that's like "When I gotta kill Tony Hawk in the race war" or whatever.
Whether it be at the paw of a rampaging bear or the ice-cold finger of father time, death shall someday come for the Wordle...
The Wordle Friends serve up a deliciously snappy episode. Lo, what a perfect pairing for a crisp autumn morning such as this?
The Wordle Friends are grateful that funcitons of homeostasis fall outside the scope of their consciousness; that their pancreases can fulfill its purpose without...