Two word story

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to

[Opsa]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them.

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices overflowed, while

[Opsa]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices overflowed, while the virgins

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices overflowed, while the virgins found no

[Opsa]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices overflowed, while the virgins found no satisfaction whatsoever.

[Swatopluk]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices overflowed, while the virgins found no satisfaction whatsoever. This unfortunate

[Griffin NoName]

Chapter Fifty-Seven and One Half

No matter or energy converter in the ship that Emilio's half-brother desired for his hijacking scheme during wedding cake blessings at Saint Pinochio's drive-in, had any accompanying manual to help him understand how to turn it upside down. This situation quickly became topsy-turvy when the she-ocelot previously mentioned in connection with the furry knickers left behind in Admiral de Ruyter's bottom drawer, under his privy chair, created a monstrous scandal among the WallwelliWinga Tribe that had less than two fortnights before the  unexpected visit of Santa. Knitted stockings filled with the she-ocelot's unmentionables hung between many of Emilio's mentionables. Yet everyone's hopes rocketed skywards on the news that there had been a not yet sullied pair among the holiday's offerings. But after much deliberation, the frilly Lily and Herman Munster decided on pistols at the fair roller coaster with only one bullet and fifty blindfolded victims. That became old quickly when diachronic bursts of temporal distortions sucker-punched the totally time-dependent weevils without any clockwork pretensions.

Vigorous but sloppy munching noises right from Emilio's left deafened the gerbils sitting on deckchairs under reinforced steel awnings. Going airborne via dirigible and Cavorite helium balloons in revenge for tainted spinach dips, the gerbils flew past Emilio's half-brother's ocelot breeding farm. Turkeys ate some sodium pentothal pellets and became dinner guests at Saint Pinocchio's Mad Hatter Tea Party. That could only mean that violent ornithophiles clashed head on with violet flavoured munchkins wearing elaborate Vegas headpieces recently stolen from transvestite heterophile misandrists and congressmen. The victims of circumstance and diayard die-hards took cold revenge, Romney's brutal electioneering habits notwithstanding, and reduced the fifth column by half. But no one cared. "Scare not the scarabs, scabby and scrappy they love thee despite their creepiness," said Mr.Cuttlefish, who was an expert cuttle-fish fisher. Joe Squidfreezer disagreed, stating that beetles weren't receptive or retentive before 9 nymphomaniac virgins and therefore a majority wouldn't be enough to satisfy them. Proper bribes made all the mediocre beetles less aubergine, the dish of maracuja slices overflowed, while the virgins found no satisfaction whatsoever. This unfortunate state of