Tease Test(e)

Tea testing tease. The baggers went inserted sand with cradles and wicker hens full of dries, all mewling to get into that special place, where if you stood too long, you'd nearly break down and cry or fire the house censor for being a tad too third gradient, and or german, or just a hairwidth shy of being tall enough to pass muster on the crossified shimmy get-down and book urns of jesuit babe, clad in the browniest aura of brick throwing asp and muckle, aimed low for the balls of senate, ingress, and cups of sherry, held as white elephants over plumber johns and pissmoan marys. It all was in aid of the former postulates and ivory states of stance: once cherries, they now had the gloat ready for terrace frowning. Added insult wood beam that rectal thermommy, juiced like a roid calf, and a qualf of a savoury herbal mix of rosemary, cavendish, and meisterbrau; you know the type, all piled up in sedentary oils and gleaning like a verdant meridian, awaiting the anathema for a priori malts and hoopers to climb crowingly to abut the genteel frasier with pieces of chair, teat, and peter bailed island reticent ambition and gambit coatl. Fourteen more days, my shinning knock-kneed protean inconstant. Set the limitless cherubs with a task to carve circles from the kilmer, and the unrest will chide niceties to bro better annexes. These will be our times. And timmy was the tune of skirts and chortles. And dim was the sets, embarrassed of all things, with thirteen suns less to carry missingly in septal requisites, and the raffy scores of long legged mal askings, they, my friend, only they would be culpable only of porn and candid aiding of mists. After all would end, and the reams of a fault line would find omni shrouds in shelf-lives painted red, white, and algae bloom.