Toadfish Monastery

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off.

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off. The silence

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off. The silence was typical.

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off. The silence was typical. Nothing ever

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off. The silence was typical. Nothing ever came out

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off. The silence was typical. Nothing ever came out of Bangor

Unlike the attitude of most fashionably minded toads, a Toadfish's pet regards its equals in altogether a different light. It always tries to see the greener pastures in all its glorious fury and the first time it gurgles and giggles is truly an extraordinary experience for those in the possession of absolute alcohol. Nonetheless our story really began at the Paddington railway lap dancing marmalade appreciation competition. Our Seville orange connoisseur was a toad of extraordinary sexual and spiritual depravity. Partially undressed and very embarrassed because his engorged lymph nodes made him feel like throwing up a large amount of partially digested veggie pie, which had, despite their previous attempts, been resistant to every enzymatic decay thus far, our hero decided to try Tumms. Unfortunately, he forgot to insert the tube which allows the plunger to fully descend over the lower exit, thus exposing the other flange with the corrugated fly wire to the left of the reflux controller. Within 30 seconds the reflux sent huge globules of fatty and grisly Cumberland and Worcester Best Buttered ganglion nodes mixed with very rancid old socks (smelling like Limburger cheese puffs) flying into his wide open oral orifice. This caused an instant and irrevocable dislocation of the vomero-nasal organ, which may or probably will become dislocated under such unexpected input of inappropriate material. By ignoring these abominable and (as stated) rancidly odored figments of President HootinBlaughen's lurid nightmares. Our mildly mannered Professor of applied gastrogenics wept hot tears from the radiantly green alcohol pond behind his eye sockets. This fiasco, unexpected as ever, would soon result in a very uncomfortable silence between both his sets of Legos, which usually fell apart during close encounters of the unsavory kind.

One Lego -which above all else possessed the uncanny ability to levitate - skipped across the palingenetic childrens ward into the psychic realm of the Mental Playthings. Triumphantly masticating, then expectorating Brobdingnagian voluptuously (nice logorrhoe) it landed well beyond reality. "Great Zombie Mulumba, Keeper of the blasphemous voodoo droids Shelter" was just the type of insidious wannabe who eats Legos. Whilst flashlights furiously scanned the dark side of his underpants, the cheese from Corsica languidly languished beside the pool of Endomenteranion which in light breezes was almost tolerable. Leticia skipped senselessly her golden locks with gusto but without much caution. The pleasure of touching plastic blocks behind the toy chest, the delight of mixing her own strawberry cocktails, the exaltation of worshiping mango biltong with passion fruit, and specially brewed brown harvest meade. "Oh joy!" he said, opening his mind to that sinful treat of fresh Wellingtons and beer.

Inside the control bunker, Corporal Lego ruminated over the unfortunate happenstances that lead to his being in it. His hairstyle was burned beneath the disapproving gaze his grandfather had practiced when playing the trombone naked. Silly Perkins, the Village Idiot, sat on Corporal Lego's remote control, inadvertently turning Wisconsin off. The silence was typical. Nothing ever came out of Bangor shut its