it comes to cut it on the street, skinthin and toe-fixation and hup to and nary a nary, watching each other watching each other. modulate, measured, spirit-levelling fratry orotund from the dark beyond the spotlight saying these are the little green men doing the corroboration. or even the unexpected, like the last letter of the alphabet mating with a killer whale that look of disgust on your face, before she turns in flight what a blister what mouth at low tide and what is left standing?
Yikes and yep and meanwhile the urge is out and out here, where the monstrous professor 2-brains and his little green henchmen roar and splutter gnomic invocations over all the heavens and hills, so they will speak, but they wouldn't want you to get the wrong message, sister. Orange you glad I didn't say apple? (hissing mingled applause)
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