for
your edification: You can remember this word no problem by
taking note that knavery (sorta)
rhymes with navel-y. You know what a navel is, right? Of course you do: it’s a cheese hole. An umbilical abode. A pouty outie. A Dennis Rodman Treasure Chest. A BELLY BUTTON! Okay.
Now that we’re on the same page, I’d like to ask you now to think of
that girl you knew back in sixth grade who unfortunately decided to pierce her
own navel. Remember how whenever she was around her parents she wore her one
piece swimsuit or her longest t-shirts, but as soon as she went down to the
YMCA pool unattended, she’d wear her skimpiest, slootiest bikini and her crop-tops? Well, before her at home pierce job got all
oozy and infecty, she was practicing total deceitfulness
so her mommy and daddy didn’t find out that she’d bought her first ticket on
the bus to Skankytown. She wanted to
show off her navel-y because her belly was concavery but she had to practice knavery so her parents wouldn’t
sell her into slavery.
examplification
- Rodrigo: I heard
you broke up with Tiny Tina. What
happened?
Birthmark
Tony: Dude. I didn’t want to, but she was practicing knavery during our entire relationship. All this time I thought she was just really
modest and shy with all her long shirts, but the other day she was reaching up for some
cereal in her top cabinet, and her shirt lifted up, and I saw her navel.
She has a freaking outie, man.
Rodrigo: Wow.
Sorry, dude. That’s like the ultimate deceit. I know outies are
your biggest phobia.
Birthmark
Tony: Her stank breath and horse teeth I
could handle, but that knob on her stomach where a hole should be is a complete
deal-breaker.
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