Pride cut the tin with a gape so wide you could skin the chin with a few extra x's or w's. The gills were pent, however; upways/downspiraled... tantric shells beading into little scrapes next to the tear ducts, a difficult task to be certain, and a nail gun spray followed requisite.
Ages and yellows, the byron felting process coughed two tone grey and elf. Kicking sand had a cannibal affection: skinny legs and soup arms were telling enough; trolling barbaments slurred their french so pored that only a ping of ice descent could park the tenure and shab the way. Pardoned harks, arks, dollies on hairied partchedment, more of the singing-- little denizen, ochre all ovened against.
You could cable sting your way to the icing, sure sure. Dancing lummox and pridery brides: everyone had noting nothingless to wail sayings with; and with this christening gel, we were bound.
Two or threw mired three hired chalks. A saying was as bureaucratic as it could fell, and doing so, I could tell we were lunch. The crabs would sign up from their fattening pens, and once gathering steed, would lunge en mass to sire cuts, lancing their mandibles like a threshing fold, burying all tale within the telling; ever-mentioning a hiss of mastication gnash with foaming teeth, and tired of the truth.
These all be it's a brim. Bored dumb set forth while shawns worked the till entity until button pressions caved to a thirdly hemisphere formation; a circumspect new organ along due frontal lobe or ear. Hadworthy, a fired-up gal, made appeals to the cripes, but no dice dither: we were all, we were none, we were tools oxidating each other, in the sun/by the by/trainwreck candor applied. Keeping teating, someone mused. And we did. Or rather you did. The eyes were too proud.
(eyes used for tooth support)
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