They startled Tom Cruise, whose vacation was intent.
They realized a truffle in the woods with a pig.
They estimated how movies make the day, because of the essence of Tom Cruise.
Tom Cruise intends to count the rings and moons of Uranus, different moons for different functions. He is star in the estuary, while milling fish bethink excesses of rhythm. High resolution pictures of his furnace, cunning details of his toothpaste, cluttered remnants of his dray horse feeding schedule: all this sparks debate. Will we realize that aliens are farmers, ever? And the awesome power of playing like that, Tom you are great! Here is how we talk about. Hubble telescope likens thunderstorms to Tom's teeth. Storms drive into his household with volition planned in advance. His spacecraft flexes boffo with interesting geophysics to the left of his ear. Earthling plans another vacation, to hug old intention. Tom Cruise eyes are thyroid, his nose is probable, his penis is stock market. Remember the wife, mother of his cunning? She's a corsair. Divinity prompts telescope to check out Saturn. Man and woman can't meet on Neptune, sun-weighted star crap. Pluto is just another swept along, so we need a better teleological project to chart the action. Tom Cruise isn't miserable at all, so don't ask. Our old friend Gilgamesh has to mop up now. He's Tom and turning the century again. They insisted.