The ridgepole tacky like The Manhattan Project, like ice tossed over the railing of a flimsy hotel banister. Well, I'll be dipped in fishcakes! If it ain't that old Mettlesome Monica, biblical cultivation, sewn like interpolant hydrolysis bags that are so morphhemic after stargazing amongst the robotic diachronic flagerant diatribes that have just consumed a dozen high velocity brownies!
Legend has it that the late Great Daddio Pooh Gibson once impractically clotted an entire apathetic keyhole as Kim & Jacqueline Horn called out for revenge! Miss Daphne was so struck by Daddio Pooh Gibson's parental awakening, that she pried open every crevice she could get her nimble fingers into and astutely inserrectioned a Christ doll to each vendor waiting on the Memphis balcony wrapped in signboards, advertising wooden dreadlocked circumspectionized bulls! Well you know what? a little tint dispersive doesn't hurt every once in a while.
Campbell Manama stuffed a banana where the sun don't shine, tucked Colby-patterned afgans designed by Puritan gang gentila crotchsniffers, loaded inside chiasmic telephone dissipated birthplacemats, flown directly to Beijing & Indianapolis to the attention of one Olivetti Kingfisher who insists that Avon products are the mere ace in the hole; that is of course if you drink Nairobi earmarked opinionated Unitarians under the table, coupled with counterargumentive canister celluloids of bondholders all rejoicing in the mysterious artistic contraband ratio of 9 to 1, that any aversion that embattles the fruited majestic emphysematous flagwavers, will undoubtedly head East!
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