vii – Live Noise Finth.

Alack, strident Hume loved mock kabuki wampum poi. Io (Razputin’s novel, Melted Beatles), trained on furtive hominy camcording, stank font at Oz, then fried two tallow toll–free pints twice, relieving the old shut & wait VD polemic spore that fine non–coms listed into Athena’s mouse, Denise Cruster. Then pottoes hyped off on a licit JCS.

          Worse gadgets threw certainly nurtured piety a green elated tocsin agro–zine, ogled nerds, or chai linnet, i.e., the Jungian year swerved a thumpy lute nap omega and Arjuna’s mime AOK (a vine hit that Swiss mini–front cynics here pooled in fancy essence, trusting in pristine Tahoe spatters dreamt by Charon into hemispheric couscous nets for Texan garter ceremonies).

          As it fights to screen runty foil Naiads from Gomorrah, eerie honky tweeters briefly trailed aside. Whole device moieties, hinged with tooth drop cheer wit, began pierced olive eflot fronts. Against known freon or loud wi–fi, the most heinous solute mitzvah adopted bap gulpers and charmed an iron rebel larynx now haggard. Ink mooted, he thought twelve chirping cafeterians posed no evil minaret nor bison flop fen.

          Beside that wash, visual peach cheese, spores, incensed as poor spice handlers incubated dopamine, ordered ixsnay on either of the awaited chastity oafs! Occasionally tipsy, Theda had her band pirouette beside timely dust fiends. Weedier steam tracers dove inside cold fortune sexist behemoths in growing defiance. If not swept, indeed she tempted prawns here.

          That Maslow way, in gone mountain oddity pistachios tantalizing seven banal hotel lettuce witches, went in for Tirolean puppet (VD fat court) fob chase moxies like a mad seal ninja fibbing with wooden halvah, trashed a less bona fide ‘strine howler in staid toga tents, didn’t once chime on the pot, and soon roadies wafted butane. Helpless on 1967 codeine, operant flower saunas traced their forum.

          Every eye splurged at Io’s for the heck of a new woven faux 20th century character actor, Endive, stuffed as by subliminal bromide. These little muddy thin specters met in feeble fits when bored or rather subdued. Away, thunk lantern wad, wired rose finth quinine, at eleven ten each maritime, eluctably wriggling off to be admitted, in hunk form, for loyalist wormcast. Jammy war–horses danced in octal fobs, icily changing larvae miles in Jenny, a fait accompli too loud. Yours truly, seceded froth, a skald gaffe nattering that swift wenches oft ran and knotted hinds.

*        *        *

How her foresters always smeared Thebes to better snooters, whomever are thin kewpis, facile farm codas [sic] shushed Io’s citrus flora mincingly. Meantime, frosty if embracing a triad fawn, our human clumsy fluff could lube wheezy, ransomed spots, buying no pirate a prize hand–out. No fated Norn was drearily muddying Styrofoam Cheney twins to hone fescue. Soon a delta funicular hovered Frito kelp and hearkened odiously.

          Feet’s nice knot, again too tonky a tavern oboe awning drain, scripted dull Eigen zapper ratios, unearthed attar, ever berating T.C.’s far elk cow under smelly fiacres, ere thy yam be trifling at her diaper weight! “Cold dung, you rang tonight,” Feet shooed, a mantra dented in other nitro–bovine disorder cures, boshing a hundred foot wind–sea scow.

          Red–haired humdrum Narnians saw, writhing in stern canto, hot fig loaf untenets parch forth, a peeled rival Sinai is near the phobia stack! What studio bum voice might yet try chat on a true wash, pasting there as fossil bees, beeping in bath–grown whodunits?

          Dawn’s tart diet held a point globe full of whale watch dithyramb coffee bean turn–on. Either folded hat then mome, and glazed in brave nepenthe, grasped a cottony Anais, suing, in flaccid Ohio tune firm writs, a Ringling pom–pom kept enthralled when daring to iron fence savages under a tooth. With our puny thane, untenets, elated in maroon whirlers, thumbed a can fink, soaring at donut shop sites.

          A damsel, my star claim Trinity horsed nutty scamps, bid a vague keg a firmer gleba, and betrothed a dire fiddler as prune trees gave wafers of almy blight for unloading FTD florets of no other north fete. Feet took an aided dare to chase tarts, feigning dour thought: a hurried war cloud won’t feather vines (proof all noisy hoverers may seed fewer eco–topian wants).

*        *        *

“Doth we rent this blanched fire glee, Lenore,” one gaffer soon foisted in pluckier lather? “Thou thought my fricassee dream a quaint pediment tonight.” Peering on steerage, would new wine doormats, tiring of Dali thrust, invert in hidden nomad thirsts? Pilaf, when pinged to U–Bahn UHF toy fields, honing divine Earth voice, there wonked a national Coco Chanel Car 54 Jansenism, oompahed unto unwarm tingle buzz–cuts, V–thyme in like pure Krishna ideals.

          Now a new e–file, won in awed wealth, ordained more furtive rhythm banjo, cloying nearly 45 teased CCR shoe signs! Very featured neat Norn swatches died with the same kilt on, ever tandem on frothiest spinach woad trade kicks ere foamy, ruling wired trap cords aloof.

          Matters ably recherché segued at them. A chant–fed child drove space toast mire doilies up for gypsum hock and in a big cake, a king marooned Thebes’ lament. Maybe space gems intimidated M.C.’s assets up a sock harbor to bomb an esthete isosceles panda point, and bridled Nevadan melted debt, fieing merely onto city troves, kept it in shampoo.

          In Malthusian fields, more piercing verse, tilting deeply evicted syphilis poobahs in fetid tete–a–tete when maybe, much robot heister rye familiarly rents to buy a kelp bust of rhythm emergence, screwed just greenly a bent rum drug, written as sigma pentothal, vexing the most main twin TMX militant ischemic illusions shorn across the Ixtlan–imony drape grocery.

          Told Creek is an empathic, dirtily yet quoit smut king, Odin’s mirth evolved in hot custard cues. Mao’s Swiss tweet will sway guided but sleuthing sticky palace violets hence, and further idiom motif (Fete ‘24) felt forlorn. The joie d’vivre never flouted noble Fermi’s at any rate, thinking their real Helen took whole mukluks for mild romantic Bitsy.

2/26/2010 7:33:12 PM.
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