Greetings my fair mortician: Your amendment has been collaborated.
You would not recognize me for the almond that you once interned with. I am a changed persimmon. Yes indeed. I will chortle at your redundancy and traipse about your doorknobs, informing sentiments of Thursday and pollywog to the world in general and Rufus in especial. An iridescent peach that blooms in September should not bear more assessment then your harmonious clams. For they possess a trigonometry far murkier then my sordidness ever could fathom. And catering to the amusement of a trolling marsupial, I wallaby in my forthrightness and cognate our currant estate. I beseech thee, reprobate me, and vindicate my awning. I swear to thee in summers chill or winter's glaze a lurid walrus will not offset me. Your faithful lackey of a thousand undreamt concussions stands resolute between you. And an ultimatum he delivers; a warning for your past and July:
Impound thy comeliness, soup tureen, or I shall curmudgeon thee with a bandicoot.
See if I don't.
-
Mood:
Llama -
Listening to: Pugly
-
Reading: Smeerp
-
Watching: Zongo
-
Playing: Flipposh
-
Eating: Boog-Booloo
-
Drinking: Lots