We were about to leave when Taffy suddenly held up a hand.

"If you would like to hear what Taffy has to say, press 1."

Caught by the taffy, she could not get to it.

In search of an answer Taffy had come to me.

Taffy spoke for the first time in a good while.

I tried Taffy again; she might come home for lunch.

Taffy was lying next to the black dog, and he had eyes only for her.

If she thought Taffy was the vulnerable type, she'd take her information from my own mind.

She loved the name, and so salt water taffy was born.

Taffy was in my mind but he didn't call me until the following day.

It has large front windows for customers to see the taffy being made.

By 0720 the enemy force had closed to within 20 miles of Taffy 2.

Taffy opened her eyes to find me sitting up in bed, staring at a dark wall.

He called Taffy to him and handed over the wheel.

I started to call Taffy, stopped with her number half dialed.

The one pound box of taffy became and still is the most popular size.

The moment pulled itself out like taffy, stretched and sweet.

We might one day bring the earth to a boil and pull it like taffy.

Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef.

The doors grew with the ceiling, pulled up like taffy.

It fell on the body and spread out across the flesh like taffy.

Taffy had started to tell me, just before Falcon blew its top.

Taffy touched her hair with some kind of complex comb.

He grabbed the last pink taffy before she could pick it up.

I decided to write my message to Taffy and send it through the mail.