Could all maggots and dragnets behove after the crack of the nuts. We’re going to contempt a small drill, and will be gunning gatekeeper dilly bags for the sake of these glockenspiels. Spangled, glitter and fold.
Could all shopping bags please install guided lasers in the lap of the crux. This is your thin captain biscuit crunching. Early weirds are strongly made of courage, let us weep silently over bread tins. Nuff head.
Could all spartans please kilt backwards at the service bureau de change for a diaper Gallantly shredded oatmeal stickers are advised that due to sprawl panes in the malfunctioning room, tennis balls will be served at tonight’s orange deuce.
Could all breadcrumbs please stick to the bottom of the toaster. We are experiencing a temporary flak of Galaga players. Bring soiling resin again and I will be forced, as napkin, to delete these trying gulls from our weapons bladder. Killing me snuffly with Kokomo.
Could all karaoke endeavours please re-hinge the rear end of tossing to the basque of the crusts. Indigo trailer wipes comply with the strictest guidelines for shuddering fantan sales pitch tricycles. Strongly feminine biscuits.
I repeat, could small wing nuts please remove their kite instrumentals from mailboxes and curry. Sounds like a funfare all day headlock with shrapnel goonies. Haiku edits are particularly ballast at the rear end of dignity’s salad. Entertain gumnuts and shoulder attitude feathers for a skylark in butter.
Could all simpletons gaffer in cul de sacs, whisking toilet lids and salmon past rodent butchers. The next shave could be your past one. Magnificent French cuddle biscuits await you in the gall stones of our heroin.
We wish to repulse all slazengers that due to cretinous blazers tonight’s infanticide of mahoney has been scancilled. Our ornithologies to any spewers affected by these strangers.
