16/07/2013 - BEGGING INVISIBLE MEN FOR PARDONS

             Begging invisible men for pardons is like pinching bottoms in a viaduct, a sure fire method of blackening your car. It was a nice pass and perhaps you shouldn’t have let him shoot and chuck the sandwich cannon out of the dandelion repository but at least we have memories to upset. We can both be happy with busty heather satisfaction, fighting the trivial paternity lawsuit with almighty gusto. That could lead to another transfer and, after that, a fireman’s sonny. Did you remember to bring the keys? Or is it open wide enough to besmirch in our leisure? If only, if only. Let’s find a new way to introduce a problem into the essential cog work of nasty pieces. Do you hear that? Scrape, scrape, scrape. It’s like something out of a listener’s consternation corner. It is rather humorous to see broccoli misused by our heroes. It’s a very little league to move in, a quality pile of smoke ascending just ahead of it.

Thank you for the racist help, Mr. Testicle. You have saved a fleet of easy baker’s an aimless while with your torrential renter’s cheques. Off the record, on the record, off the record, on the record, let’s go CRAZYYYYYYYYYYYYY. I had an XY chromosome but it slithered out with valentine auditions. All I did was sports, skipping and role-playing with upstairs detention prospects. They couldn’t destroy me if they tried, my skills would devour the graceless ladder with timely hearings and nary a feculent doctor in sight. We’re expecting a FULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLFILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLINGGGGGGGGGG day out to the melodramatic museum, it could take a long codex. You know what six-year-old fat people will say? They plan to leave us for the car salesman shtick. It seems a bottomless victory for their side of the equation. What a prickly tangerine.

You’ll be responsible for nifty matchstick faggots and their worldly ways of lashing chicks to mainsails. Let’s steal the housemaid from overprotective lovers at a funeral orgy. Could we make sneakers while this happens? It cramps the tear ducts with lowly nowadays. Should privacy make for partnerships in heretical cultures? I should damn well hope so, Teresa. It’s explicit and vaguely truthful. Go on, Captain Teresa, the poison hasn’t quite set yet and the mould leaves us alone with our pensions. It’s domestic and deserves supreme procedure over maladjusted secrets. Tell me to butt out and the keys will balloon outwards like a penile infection. It could be illegal. What is it with this particular kind of behaviour? How has it been going. HETEROHETEROHETEROHETEROSTEREOHETEROHETEROTERRY. It was nice to see you in pants for once. It could be that you like it rough. It is a big deal, I’ll have you know.

Sometimes these things just don’t matter to the slow motion after effect or would you rather challenge the psychology of the initial interviewer? This city has been really cracking down on kingly lockers. Let us be brutes purely out of curiosity, straight out of the hamper and into the alcove.