See that hole?

Rats used to come out of that hole! Shifty characters full of creamed chipped beef on toast enter the dialog, hoping to assuage their thirst for chicken. Cassius, a resident solipsist and rancorous pagan, filled his orchards with bird saliva. Cancelled this season? Perhaps.

As the sew goes, so goes the throes. Romance in the air, rats apply for drivers licenses haphazardly. In the Reichstag, teas are held for ransom. The thieves will have their day, of course. Jurisprudence was never Curly's strong suit.

The crux of the biscuit

No clowns were harmed in the writing of this article.

“The crux of the biscuit is the apostrophe.”

~ Frank Zappa

In this case, the crux is the dog, for the dog needs her her(sic.) coffee in the AM.

In any case...

In the case of windy humbuggeries, one must cast a wide eye upon the world these days, lest one contract some grotesque malady of the soul. Those spouting drivel and excretory distractions are comingled with or in servitude to the machine that drives what in the old days was called the Id.

A reedy, vaporized voice crept across the aurascape of gathering of assorted types, trapped under a gigantic circus tent of doom, inciting a speaking in tongues. The gibbering flowed across field and orchard, startling the sheep and setting fire to a still our in the woods by means of lightning strike. The explosion was glorious, punctuating the pronouncements of a lanky lumberjack.