Hindrance Rendition is a hilarity for
the haunted and rectally challenged. Switchboards are lurching all over the
checkers, making the thrumming sound more like humming. Of course, you haven't been up to much aside
from the good old trusty hardback recitations. Of course. Saturday is the day
you go on the lam and fry kebabs until your socks melt off. The green is a
dreamy nightingale off on its duly noted march, making stories along the way. I
think there was a song scattered on the way to the jam jar's hair. The bushel
is quite tempting to those without a key card, it's like all the fun of a donkey
ride without having to confirm somebody's identity. Neurosurgery is kind of like
that in a way that has manners of speaking possibility. Nobody wants to scupper
this possibility, it could be the last one till next Thursday. It is weird
seeing the floor wired like that, without support or a studious marksman
spreading the lug. Fortunately it won't take him more than an hour to see
through to the end of his dalliance and become a lion of pure lamplight like
one of us. Conformity makes the necklaces a seen eventuality.
Today we were ragged strangers to be
made out of published material, to be slid all over the pages and typed onto
the wall. Thrust a pin through my left toe and you'll see the effects of a good
afternoon's wank. Beggars make up games to pass the time and some of them
aren't that bad so long as you keep stocked up on liar trilbies. I'm off. I'm
off. I'm a matter of fact option. Saturation is not a possibility for a statistic
in my shoes. Do shoes remain related to the cow? This is the one aspect of my
data bank that has never been filled. Circuits are ticklish and not worth
whizzing around most of the error report. I'll soften the blow while it's not
coming off as enough to transpire. The Hindrance Rendition is gaining on
itself, it's borrowing breath to paper and towel down its drawbridge. The thing
won't stand, of course. You'll unzip your trousers and drink it like malt before
construction is even complete. That's the way to have a hook nose and use it.
Science fiction movies were a good towel for a while but then the specials came
out and made septic tanks roll over all over the continent.
Gradual movements in the wrong
direction fluctuate the depressive spirit in such a way that it devolves into a
twat, twat of course being the operative term for singularity. The symbolism is
a fort to be reckoned with, a bowling ball could get ground down to bearings and
deft atoms that didn't hear the mating call. It's a conference of hand holding,
a blackout spike to hear about mom, mum and all of their alternatives. Last
time I checked, there was ten and I lost a hand in the process.
No I don't.
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