The pain caused when you're plowing through shis-ka-bobs and keep impaling the roof of your mouth on the skewers. Maybe you ought to slow down before you move on to the next one, big fella.
Kid: Hey Albert, you want some cake?
Albert: Oh, I'd love some, but I'm all shishkabobulated from poking myself 15 times in the last hour. Maybe later.
Kid: How 'bout now?
Albert: Now's later. Okay.
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