Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Anal Was Squalor

Before breakfast, I had already faked my own death, picked and eaten wild blackberries and collected a good-looking woman. After breakfast, I continued with my productive schedule by painting my tombstone in the form of a miniature windmill on my neighbor's door. Later, when my blood had been thinned with fire, I rubbed the oven for twenty minutes. However, this failed to quell the normal shaking and jostles of walking. Suddenly, I saw that my cousin had used his own hand to form a distress signal with my great-aunt's corpse, so I dropped what I was doing and shouted as loud as I could, "You'll be a burning building!" which seemed to scare him off.

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