A big fat butt

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One day I was walking down the street and the birds! Ate me!! So I went to their intestines (for obvious reasons) and I demanded to see the manager. It was too dark to see the manager so perhaps I was imposing excessively. I ended up getting to smell the manager.

The manager smelled like coffee, old pencils, and guava juice. Maybe a hint of stool sample? I inhale deeply. Ah, that manager smell. That loud infectious manager smell.

It was at that time that Izumi Konata came to help me escape the birds, but I had invented batteries using only a plant and a paper clip. If I leave now, how will the denizens of the birds power their they're electric beeble gongers? Not with the battery I just discovered! And I really want they're money. It's pretty, it has this lovely picture of a moose on it. But Konata had a tempting offer to make as well: Rumpelstiltskin pie! I had never eaten that Umbrellistanian delicacy, and I wasn't about to pass it up for some pretty moose money!

Suddenly, my narration will shift to the future tense, suggesting perhaps that this text will be composed of various anecdotes recalling portions of the same event at different points in time. At the same thyme, I will be a walrus. Konata yells something about MC Ride and the birds dropped us in a field where sinister old gnomes danced the famous "Chicken-Blooded Dance" for either a duration of tie-m or Bzinky Mertin. The stalks of lettuce screamed "Iauwyiaubquaiywuai" into the infinite blackness of my soul, where I was singing a song:

Hoi hoi I attune tomato

he was peas and this song doesn't rhyme rime.

snooby pickles

Adoop Hint-Giver touched my Brazil nuts

this will devalue my collection.