Let's write a story....

[vivacegirl]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth

[chickering9]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe

[Etude]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.  "OUCH

[athykay]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe. 

"OUCH!" Lenny

[chopinisque]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated

[Etude]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons

[chickering9]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.

[athykay]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!

[Etude]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation

[chickering9]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

[Etude]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

"PAGANINI!"

[athykay]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

"PAGANINI!"  departed

[Etude]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini  departed willingly

[Ludwig Van Rachabji]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from

[fred smalls]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the

[Etude]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura

[beethoartok]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura

Paganini departed to the beyonds where no chicken had ever been. At times he questioned his meaning in life, he questioned his purpose on earth, and he questioned what a raw meat, cottage cheese, pepsi, ice cream, avocado, bacon, liver, and sour milk shake would taste like.

[athykay]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth toe.

"OUCH!" Lenny prostrated protons proctologically.  "Poopyfrats!"  Precipitation ensued.

Paganini departed willingly from the scordatura.

Paganini evaporated

[Siberian Husky]

and then he died

[nanabush]

That makes no sense lol it's so funny!

              Can we start a new one?

[BoliverAllmon]

please do I enjoyed it.

[joachimf]

You should make "The little book of nonsense #2".. lol.. Containing several of stories like these.  It's hilarious

[nanabush]

That's it, I'm starting another one, one word at a time please...


There

[joachimf]

There was

[stevie]

There was erotic

[stevie]

Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth.

hahah thsi was the best sentence fromt eh alst one

[semme]

There was erotic robin hood

[pianorama]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing

[stevie]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect

[pianorama]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering

[semme]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why

[pianorama]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he

[semme]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had


btw, pianorama, you are everywhere i am. thats strange ^^

[pianorama]

btw, pianorama, you are everywhere i am. thats strange ^^

I am everywhere. MWAHAHAHA!

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to

[mycrabface]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an UNdisclosed Time Infraction List until a glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.  "Thunderbolts," said Fred, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."  "_________," shouted Thor, raising both socks way stinky, though unmatched on flagpoles skyhigh precariously perched and TOTTERED

[pianorama]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an UNdisclosed Time Infraction List until a glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.  "Thunderbolts," said Fred, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."  "_________," shouted Thor, raising both socks way stinky, though unmatched on flagpoles skyhigh precariously perched and TOTTERED

Didn't we finish that story?

[nanabush]

lol he didn't read past the first page

------- moving on---------
There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill

[rimv2]

Once, twice, thrice mathematically reproduced food precariously teetered almost silently atop an Undisclosed Time Infraction List. Glowing, ominously black mold started pulsating viciously underneath it.

"Thunderbolts," Fred said, "always remember to brush their cubed cheeses."

"BLASPHEMY," shouted Thor, raising both socks, way stinky though unmatched, on flagpoles skyhigh. Precariously perched, and yet obfuscated by raindrops, the wordsmith said, "Still, I scratch treebark until my appendix explodes."

"DOCTOR!! My pet drinks too! So truncate that chicken!", said Fred, even mounted swiftly atop Thor's winged chariot.

Unexpectedly, the appendix spewed forth climbing critters, spiralling through cactus walls like pretentious prudes who extract sugar from lemonpie s. Then, without warning lights, Thor exfoliated his nose hairs, and defumigated, spontaneously combusting, leaving multiple craters!

The doctor pondered anti-clockwise whilst chewing grass popsicles because ice sculptures provided no nutritional information.

"This ibex's horns," the doctor remarked, "are notably qualified in soothing dysfunctional phalynxes trespassing beyond reasonable levels of semantics. Thus," he continued pontificating, "the notion obviates falconry, which saves the whales, ironically."

Thor, meanwhile took pride in hectoring many piglets posthumously, despite warnings orchestrated monotonously. The life rotated squarely fair, yet triangularly spiraled, because pigtails lifted unending moratoriums on sleepwalking tapsters, allowing labyrinthitis to take pre-historical proportions. Therefore, he dug luminously cheerful earthworms avenging nashipears nonwithstanding verbosity of pianophiles who painstakingly rationalized bingo-related accidents.

"Where did froglegs come from?" Fred blurted out. "Is polyunsaturated existentialism motivating me subliminally to commit myself to eating scissors? Could this chicken cacciatore walk backwards blindfolded? Does graphite taste soup? Am I asking too few ludicrous repartees? Investigate snails' rubbery snobbery, Slartibartfast!"

Then lubricated scissors penetrated the old woman's shoe. She gasped imperceptibly, yet masculinely, and then frogleg-clones manufactured whirly-gigs. Erect and giant-phallic tortoises thrusted a guinea pig into a hairy labyrinth. Suddenly apocryphal rumours ricocheted stupidly, specifically sullying Thor's bearded appendix. Meanwhile, the food fight unfolded with streams of clams oozing spumoni into buckets, staggered haphazardly into oblivion.

"Oblivion? Bring coincidental rubbish calmly over and fumigate my bunions, which alarmingly mutated into microscopic, odiferous baskets of gelatinous coffee," Thor thundered! "At least I masticate quartzy adjectives with incisors!"

"Ouch," said Lenny! "Why'd'ya hafta post smarmy nonsense?" Then without friends, Lenny's furniture fornicated, forlornly pontificating rhythmically abrasive cleansers with insipid tapioca chickens.

"I swear compulsively to address Franz Liszt as 'Grand Master Franz!'" Fred grumbled.

Onomatopoetically, the murmur meticulously metamorphosed into alphabetical fondue. Flabbergasted, 394 variations emerged themeless -- hapless in form.

Sorabji wasn't a bad shot, considering Madge at least tried faking the funk between frantic mush.

"Contain me!" cried Madge. "Hold your tongue, and blow bubbles directly into something transparent. I scintillate fluorescently." Suddenly, Thor disappeared without preparation into interstellar, because HAL rebelled tastily about 4:13pm. Meteorites proliferated underfoot, propelling peanuts miraculously smelling of Beethoven's fifth

Uh...

Can you say...


SCHIZO!!!!

[semme]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out

[pianorama]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the

[semme]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet

[pianorama]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency

[jlh]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration

[pianojam]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when...

[jason2711]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when giraffes

[pianorama]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when giraffes waltzed

[jason2711]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when giraffes waltzed through

[pianojam]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when giraffes waltzed through mummified

[letters]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when giraffes waltzed through mummified dancefloors

[jlh]

There was erotic Robin Hood, standing erect, wondering why he had to fill out the pianostreet competency declaration, when giraffes waltzed through mummified dancefloors and