The bliss of transcripts keep the eyes off the ball and makes
them roll on their respective bellies to be scratches. It's reprehensive really
but nobody could deprive the smiles all round the place whenever it happens.
It's like the lonely barkeep watching pornography on his phone and writhing
backwards and forwards against the pint glass boxes. However I have been known
to revert to a childish state whenever I see this, causing me to shoot the man
in the back of his rectum. It's a reflex. It's all in the gun barrel and travelling
fast and out of the way.
The
way I see it, things can only ever get easier on the bedding situation. The doorways
will shatter at the prospect of gold mines making mints out of paper drawers
with the flick of a switch and a knife in the trifle. Alchemy is a fine art and
one that doesn't ever reverse the common statute of physical limitation. It
makes all of science wear a happy face, if a little Victorian in its tweaks and
values. Either way it gets the ball rolling while the eyes are looking
elsewhere, staring if you will. Whatever it takes we'll get back onto topic.
Morse
code is a delicious morsel to those with toothed ear holes, and an erotic
disposition. Pay the fireflies appropriately and you can have this too. There
are boomerangs everywhere but up in a hellhole like Michigan's Lurch. More to
move than to see, more to dance than to shit the bed. Keeping parameters out of
alignment is a difficult mission to undertake for even the badass maniacs of
the world, it is certifiable whilst dripping water. Watch out for the galleons
and you should be saved from hefty payments. I am not good with mathematics so
prepare to unfurl the fabric of natural equations.
Moreover
and less under, we all must make key rings out of freeloading motherfuckers,
maybe even throw a funeral into the alien voices. Listen to them as they hear
the words and don't know what to do with them. It sort of reminds me of daily
politics and the gangrene that ensues whenever they exceed the patriotic grasp.
I bequeath the inherent death to the wasps, mostly because they are the eldest
of the pact and therefore do not adhere to Marksman's Syndrome. Such a bane of
a disease, apparently it's not forgivable either.
You
might go to court yet so prepare your suit with all the nice little trimmings
around the thumbprints. It's the homemade bomb you kept in your back pocket
that caused the most ruckus so you really have no-one to blame other than
yourself and perhaps the remote control admission you requested. And today was
going to be such a long day, and tomorrow might have been something a little
more fitting to your like-minded attitudes. We are off to Pakistan to see what
there is to finger and maybe make break over and over again. Holidays!
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