Well, I'd had the Fat Mattress earlier as a writing outlet for songs and that.
You don't want 300 million Americans putting their money under the mattress.
I always put clothes and family photos under the mattress, in case the house burns down.
You sure about this?" he asked in a guttural voice. "I get down on that mattress right now, I'm not stopping until I'm inside of you.
I've got an air mattress for a bed. . . really living the high life.
Hatred, like straw, makes for a lumpy mattress.
What do men want? Men want a mattress that cooks.
Those who have never suffered the iniquities of exile cannot possibly understand the significance, the gravitas, of a mattress.
No one really knows what mattresses are meant to gain from their lives either. They are large, friendly, pocket-sprung creatures that live quiet private lives in the marshes of Sqornshellous Zeta. Many of them get caught, slaughtered, dried out, shipped out and slept on. None of them seems to mind this and all of them are called Zem.
Lying on a feather mattress or quilt will not bring you renown.
