14/12/2013 - I HAVE SPOKEN WITH LITTLE FUZZY PATCHES

            I have spoken with little fuzzy patches and then the righteous started to spread out to develop pantheons of black dust in alkali mires and other incredible revolts of scientific discovery. Safety hazards happen so many times over and over, like the mold on the iconic innuendo. None of us are going to make you sad here, we are simply moving onto the next part of the process. I for one want to know so badly that my soup is going cold. Getting into the bag isn't a problem, it's the inevitable transference to early thinking that will leave me an accident at home. All I ask is that we let go of our forearms and measure the tat that will develop along the spurt and crease of the flesh. Understanding chemicals is one thing and understanding reading is another. Let it boil, it will be fine for ten minutes with its harmful bacteria. I have chanced upon an article.

            The shin is an interesting implement but will deserve more quality time with its idiotic older brother while the fridge plans its self-cumulative suicide. The flavour will be fascinating and probably hosed down to within an inch of its dire sugar cane life. This is the fact of my humanly red body, get out of here if you aren't willing to believe with a vacuum cleaner solemnly in your right hand. It's time to make a list filled with bestsellers and graphic designer email addresses. I want to break it all up exactly so that the chimney sweeps will see fit to return to their bold naval positions at the cusp of timelessness. More trains pass through this region of the Blue, Erasmus has his tickets stamped and the banks will burst with his salacious kick in the dude that killed him. The laughter claps and the thunderous applause is in fact an elaborate game of terrific watching. Shake out.

            Conjunctions are just too good at minding their own business that they don't even properly connect with the kidding of killing. The other officers are not even heard or resided in by arsonist demons. What was all that? Could it be less comparable? The thigh gets down and along. Neil has Victoria in his sights and the screams are deafening with the tumultuous hum of apologies. Are you chicken with eighteen borrowed parts? Could the copper say yes to less authoritative grandeur. 'Oops', they say when you're not around to chastise you for it. Let me tell you something about the way margins orientate sizeable cologne. Jumping out the back of a car is like candy to the camera phone, it will help rediscover its swindling brainstorming habits. How coy could the competent be? I'm rich with the caramel of sad categories that devour toilet corrections from the drop of a lover's hat in another lover's dog bed of hours.

            And now the minimal amusement of sharing videos will rupture the honest store manager right in the bladder and leave it at that.