furthermore, there’s a dungbeetle crawling out the nose of that large grecian urn

accordingly, bondage that snaps a turtle and breaks the beak off. that poppet. yo ho, the dead guy wails. it’s all over.

i once saw a waiter sweeping up some broken glass and whose got all the chips now? now? well, that’s all that he’s said about anything at all. where’s the future going anyhow? ‘s got some gangbusters waiting in the wings, ready to tear down the wall between the now and the next-now?

indefinitely sad. or maybe some other thing. i’m all parched and and and… well, enjoy the afternoon you saucy bunkins!

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