Graham’s dislike of ham didn’t hamper his acceptance of invitations to supper by folks in his hamlet. He would ham it up, pretending to be a hamster, to distract from his non-hammed plate. Or, wham, he would tell the tale of pulling his hamstring escaping the jaws of a hammerhead shark while vacationing in the Bahamas. As he lay in his hammock post-meal, he would think how hammering home, ham-fisted, his dislike would hamper his opportunities to ham it up, and get veggies and dessert. It would be a shame, his life a shambles, if he championed non-ham get-togethers. So he accepted any and all invitations from the folks in his hamlet.

Some silliness for Linda’s SoCS on the word ham

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