Well, of course, it has to come from a big resin Guernsey, all ten feet of her. I think if you had to be painted up and ride around on the back of a flatbed trailer all day, your teats would probably make unusual flavors, too.
Is she dreaming of flying over the moon?
Do the teats become clogged with peanut butter swirl?
Is the ice cream pre-churned with a curl on top?
Well, at least she's been saved from one indignity.
I want to free the plastic cow.
