Ekramolatnap

As falls Wichita, so falls Wichita Falls.

Ekramolatnap furnaces district 12 beyond calibration limits, heightening a sense of perplexed skullduggery in dullard hamperers. Resuming kaizuming bellows Algonquin platterage, hinterlands and mace. A further prepostery was perpetrated by vampyre monkeys from beyond space, while reinforcements shadowed a throttled and woebegone marsupial. Trees bent to the will of Santa Clause, firing the clay with the power of their wills alone. It is by will alone I set my mind in motion.

Grief-stricken anointed ones cavorted in the dimmed lighting, salivating to Pavlov's bells and whistles. Hoot and hollers too, filled the space with primal sounds of gumption. As quilters prepared for the rainy season, several butcher's aprons were placed prominently among the frogged basilisks. "Bring forth the mead" was canted, recanted and decanted for purposes of hairy legged men. The gauntlet was struck, the beast was molting, the fluff gets up your nose and an elk (not Ann Elk, but an elk) was had by all.

Longing looks flashed through so many brick walls added to the stress of the gnughos, and leaks allowed predatory lending gibbons to infiltrate plumbing fixtures. Planar knowledge was at fault for groveling the night fantastic. As the volcano crunched a granola lumen, panicked cadavers fled into the night until night became day, and frost became a vestal virgin. Stupendous bench pressing followed the girth to clamor against the cake smashers.

Aloof pelicans made warding signs against the evil in men's hearts while maintaining a fastidious welfare state. Consuming sheet music and steak sauce kept the Algerian contingent amused as lather built up on the edges.