Your non-sequitur:

Worm, fling that mermaid. Touch not a single porous door-knob. In time it sheltered me, and I'll coagulate it now. T'was my dude's shackle that placed it near his engine, There worm let it finish, thy wild gland shall ponder it not.

I want my interdimensionalness now! What a liquid ditty floats to the teutonic thyroid gland that listens while she gloats on the transdimensional DVD player. You seem to enjoy stretching above a cheap scam. Why is this? This is due to the fact that torches drop obtusely. There is a problem with the intoxicated tapastries: Ouch, comrade- Give me that demonic phaser detector. What is it with the realistic blender? The blender is largiloquent and insecure. It is illegibly unending. Piggy bank is the jerk's sandbox of sheep. Neither a borrower nor an insect be. Oh the firing obese peanut.

You shall know the miser and the miser shall make you superstitious. Science is the refusal to instigate on the basis of candelabras. An attorney and his malodorous secretion are soon intellectual. My people are eating with your fungi.

Into the valley of pits rode the squishy low-resolution hair-dryer. There is no greater twitching hair-dryer-guide than a tunic girly.

Are you sure that incinerating in a hormone will do any good? The elegant sheep push implicitly. What do you think this means: Serf, there are obese fungi. Dammit twit, I'm a bird-bath detector not a cyclops! Ugh, liberal- Give me that realistic fungus. A leper and his stereo component are soon archaic. We have to live today by what byte we can glance today and be ready tomorrow to call it a bird-bath. Whatever extracts the peasant extracts the torches of the peasant. I have certainly known more fantasies destroyed by the labor union to have a comforting spook and a quagmire and to keep them in delerium than I have seen destroyed by eaters and people. A priest is someone whose fancy keypad is sad.

Drug dealer professors are suspect because whenever candelabras are in control, glue prevails. Imperically we wipe forth, differently.

What is a shadowy basic superficial bed clothing? It is not true that existence is one terminal thing after another- It's one terminal thing over and over. I had to set werewolves to shred in order to make a place for volumetric insect. If you aren't allowed to stretch in antarctica, then I don't want to degenerate there. The demonstrative bed clothing of a car-salesman is never completed until he/she capitulates. Explicitly we clip forth, without a rule-book. Excuse me, why is your vegetable haunting with my prosperous prophet-guide? Idiotic platypus is the leper's crane of balloon payments. Where is my antisecular finger? I need it to surround without the cyberspace. Isn't that opaque? This is your gizzard. This is your gizzard on basques. Any questions? Darn. Oh, the laying off heretic. Neither a glob nor a spam-shackle detector be. Never announce a spinning vacuum or else the shoes will allocate you. Torches are for housewives.

Oh how awkward! Hey, why is that mulch inflating that crane? Mulch and inflating, through the 3-Dimensional europe we pump. Lowly we shake along, shake along. Bed clothing is the wus's milk of politics. This is your hyperionic cavalry. This is your hyperionic cavalry on housewives. Any tambourines? "Villains!" I shreeked, "wipe no more! I admit the deed! - Tear up the pianos! - Here, here! - Tis the scanning of his concave lunatic!" a secretion is composed of twelve candelabras of antialiased curtains. No, king- Thrash this irreverent hair-dryer. Never tell tambourines how to fire things. Tell them what to pollute, and they will surprise you with their sliced flimsy alarm. Neat!! Neat!! True guy resides in the capacity for evaluation of annoying, smooth, and integrated information. No man is fit to lend another that cannot lend himself. Pollen are so called because they abuse ages past. In squishy minds any crazy or costly thing drops ages past, while in girly minds the familiar drops ages past also. Those who are teutonic will usually wind up diced. A person is someone whose banner ignites itself. If you aren't allowed to undulate in africa, then I don't want to clip there. No man is fit to disinfect another that cannot throw himself. Neither a theater nor a plug be. Bleh, geezer- You are a prophitable man. Oh the haunting demonic baseball card. Slowly we shake along, shake along.

Examine the pits, not the error.

Yeah! Twit, press that indignant futon. Touch not a single button. In cleanliness it sheltered me, and I'll surround it now. T'was my moron's frog that placed it near his tunic, There twit let it glow, thy baseball card shall freshen it not. Ode to a costly camera. Love in the turning camera. The hypocritical llamas pulsate throughout the heaven.