The best rocks roll uphill.
Fire is an animal on the horizon.
Fur is very, very in.
Little roar means hunt.
Big roar means hide.
Wood is good, but tres passé.
He finds random grunting tedious.
He’d rather be alone than roam in packs.
He’s secretly shedding.
And the whole clubbing and mating thing
is just a waste of time, he thinks.
He thinks.