Festoonery

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I've resolved to quit smoking jimson weed before I drive my sister-in-law to work. This week, I hit a gaggle of spring chickens on their way to church. My lawyer says I can get time off for illogical behavior, so, I'm pleased. Jules cut the carrots too big again. turns off the television Oh, piss! What's on the ceiling now? "Richie, be a love and get me the ceiling mop, would you?"

--alpacas come into view, stage left--

Reverend Zimulator, on the Tyra Banks show.

The butt[edit]

After combing my longish hair, Prescott came into the kitchen with an armload of firewood, wanting to know where I wanted it. I replied, "That's a rather personal question, sir." Across the moldy French divan, I could see a copy of the Gettysburg Address written in Khmer and Thai. I imagined that the Laotian family down the street is pretty upset, having been unaware of this situation until I sent an email to The Daily Spoo. All rank and file, they assembled on the quad and quid, appreciating the view of the Queen.

Streaming from the Appalachian mindset is an insipid mindset of illusory proposal. In fact, there is no such thing as a reptile. If things even off soon, the descendants will feel the power of Santa. And not in a good way. They will sing and bow down, as they are instructed to by the great beast. Tweezers will do no one any good. Just go on about your business, as though you hadn't noticed the gorilla.

Reginald Mordling's elbow[edit]

The rhythm of these thing sort of creeps into your subconscious, n'est par? The first one was arrested for alluding to himself in the third person. "Nobody gets away with dat in moi neighborhood," said the Paddy cop with that gross thing hanging off his lip. Many times I've wished to tell him myself, "you look like a bloody freak with that thing! Got no health insurance?"