Ahh the life of a turtle.
Nothing to do but hang out at the edge of Route 123 all day, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get yourself run the fuck over.
“I’m just waiting for Tony to get back, we’re gonna head up to the Esso and pick up a case of Alpine.”
Meanwhile, 500 metres up the highway:
…Looks like somebody’s going to be waiting a looong time.
turtle soup.
you kinda remind me of snow white…. living there in the forrest with all your animal friends.
really, who aims for a turtle? the naive debate about evil really existing or not wakes up in my mind when I have to consider accounting for the turtle smooshers.
what’s all that orange sludge under the live one? yuck.
That orange part would be called: the Plastron- or the bottom shell of a turtle
ref:: http://octopus.gma.org/turtles/parts.html
That poor turtle got cracked the fuck up.
I need to get out more.