That be a bear, sure nuff. A damned raging bear if I ever
did see one. Summat is going wrong with my lingo, like a dilly dally on the
Eastern side. Caesarean fracture lines will monopolise the wattage and
profoundly affect the impact rate. My, my, says the children, we have a pot full
o' parents to fiddle a dee with. Gross negligence straight off the cuff like
some limey that forgot his perfect piglet trousers. What a whimsical time he
has ahead of the curve, like some rainbow found on the moon's right side. Latex
druggists pound my pavement each and every day in hopes that they will find you
and bring you to justice like some ventilation pad. Haggard sleep is had by all
without a pod and breakable munch. For the sake of ventilation, they chose to
bring down the younger star and perform its buzz cut like a jamboree of the anal
sorts. Prudence becomes Valhalla when faced with the likes of you on some rainy
hopeless day. Sweethearts are tainted like spirit gum on the hemisphere's rough
edges. Nothing quite irons out the Hades Question than the lost bowl of
spaghettios. Raucous lingering shall retire the tepid velocity like some fallen
mum with all her brethren before her. Sweet Minerva, our babies shall have
hands on their shoes! Like cattle! Like rotting, squandered, frigid cattle! The
castles are stacked with thunder sticks and boy you better learn things quick.
Switchblade pistols and hammerhead curtains wait at the sidelines to steal your
foetus and its potential drawbacks. Follow the wind, ride the wind, bonk the
wind and it'll wink back like some turgid sanctity. Lapels are the ties of the
cuffs of the collars and the fly. Grow that one back, dumb sonuvagun. Begrudge
the rattle and numb the stagnant stymie. Broken numerology is like a hand that
won't hold out of fear of the older elder sausages. Poof and go out like flares
on the midnight growl. Sorties and treaties and volatile hugs from the French
unkind. THE SHADES ARE DRAWN BACK AND THE FACE OF TIME IS FOLDING IN A THOUSAND
PAPER CUTS OF LOVELINESS AND CANDLES! HELP THEM! AID THEM! TEACH THEM THE WAYS
OF THE OLD GROUCH! IT'LL HELP! Might do. Sadism and cream pies are one in the
same to a guy like their mother and her illegitimate proctology. Tatty elks are
just ahead and there aren't any barricades left to teach the lithium runes and
their markings. Yellow sleeveless shirts and the hope it brings! The feet are
decapitated like something out of a chick flick. Maybe the handsome twenty-something
shall open his chest hair to a new way of thinking and finally accept that some
things just are. Wouldn't that be the way to a better pasting? You brown noses
have no time for old fools and that's why we've had to pile them all up in the
shower. And the bath tub. Yes, that was you. Feel the shame.
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