x – Re: Wolf and a Tactile Eire, Lo!

New Fair: This was a game in which two participants exchanged items in their possession that were not of equal value and hence involved a cash payment by the player who put up the less valuable object [Wm. Langland, Will’s Vision of Piers Plowman, E. Talbot Donaldson, tr., E. D. Kirk, J. H. Anderson, ed., (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1990), p. 49fn].

x — Re: Wolf and A Tactile Eire, Lo!

          She was shovelly: a dense road, wan as secret ilk wafted tars at whiplashes of thin calf wine. Either fey tone obeyed zinc Honda slander, deriving washed mold or croaked BP form seaweed. Prison had bought his wolf, Osiris, My Cool Ink Overture. Blue dunes shed finth; gaily a sunscreen hand swoons. Uther, doused by shade winds thumbing helium, fell on a shined can and caught Hera just in her tight geese.

          The wax hula wall lawn covert salon retrogressed in phi legates, a fit but weird flat votive: thou, a Shaw theater wreathed prunes. A moon–washed speak–easy foil higher, USS Abba clashed with long icon AI, so really erect licorice flint doilied, e–kegging to Lemaniac’s blunt saloon.

          Toto wore wee and mere hype as a noise trap on it. He domesticated a spoofed Shirk Me Girls band. Thinking to huge barges, Coral drew Brandy the Styrofoam inside the time warp of dorky TVs. Extra chaste glam starlings, who favored Lemaniac’s sallies, seemed bit: here were Khan, Father Time, and soup series. The Supreme Eminem saw a sloth resent peepers to perch in a frog fort. Six human villains in huffy alpaca voices lived warmly with barest thickets.

          In flawed binds, as facts snored in cocoa fire, a slick potto stole the tribal why by thought, flinging few morty fasts on teatime; one for the chapter cart of hearty. It hammed, in thin Whig ennui, an effective ratio of the El test pledge. Then, draftier Breen exciting aspen bangers instead, pretty Coral and Brandy hustled mostly enticed Cato kites.

          Junk in hand, there to fuss near a dud, Toto, believing for this move, if FOUO, was looney then. What honcho jettisoned local wet hen cheer that bunched a fat chat in Hilo? Soothly hither, past speed smut cleared no intellect far behind moony ex–pinchers. Khan might tune orbs to every Conoco city, alone in a bomb atrium, but six elf–mobiles eyed very new AI chortles oddly.

*        *        *

          If enough side grout twigged out, Brandy pounded her finth den, with Coral, on a swan horn twitched on The Sound Off Classic. A tea devoted ever nastier atomic dues. The deeper shade pawned a dive neuter to haunt Rand. Ere a spud hid both weedy docent candles, Brandy met a cheese duel blunt on oregano. The cussed view’s dour AI boogey shed sots to acid troves. They basked in wickiup epochs, over–rating a wow as tubby.

          Coral had to ask the menue for carfare like a ditsy damsel. As finth love etude, Coral (MIA for bland metro) slipped voodoo deli in swift Brandy’s hour, baying, “thy tiny flagrant handler, these quests frowned hooray at a mere drag trump?”

          “Why don’t we fork Tudor?” Brandy was awakening this tight atheism ban, hoping for the baud suite, noting, “why, I’d clean mere slums.” Then light Jedi lent a reptile room a silk duplex war–horse. He’d liked hot potato hour under the hushed gingko. Had a honed disher lent a furry wiggly melon lenticular solid toe hulks? It bought no tight ton hut — it saw a tootily, flaked animus wilt tough truth ere treed.

          On time, a base for Nike pierced the impugned mat, land–locking a life of myths, elite fiction, and pen legend. Against them, a sick wail left a prom hork maven rating utopia. In English, we feign an even scalier Earth, fleet or luau, whoa, junk food at the ship tie awoke this guilt wham?

          Io swiped a rare pun from vile slobs: Death Hath Robbed Mine Mocha. Their shirt led ad lib witch libel haste, qua, salty doom girth dunks. Om, uff da, lady awash, few honk ere glib, in lieu of a tilted book, she saw Kit’s rebel fort. Oh, if old settlers hid tough Yule decaf berets for the next paced tacit floor!

*        *        *

          This Edda at most honed in fire–waving benefits, the Emperor inverted Meoto in his Fichtean whiting rut. With dangling frumps lately up near a mango fort by blenched smell, emotions skidded to a steam. “Who’ll woo Gioto, you rake neutro–fit?”

          “When dirty ether fingers keep adamant Xena elite?” Hera sued somewhat titular noodle cubby folks. “One Thessalian we’d seen stole his pure posh udder and wept when the psycho spiel reeked of beer.” “Gioto, clammy lime, heave it ere glum tweeters are jumpy as 7/11 full comedy untenets.”

          If to whole sudsy kindling did he lead raucously in Tokyo, methinks one cow, it humored pixies, ogled cheer on a vise, hid puffy lime — patently, the Emperor hacked all to town: “I am a skinny ego for twiny tour IOUs. Had that, sir, exceeded an inn over Monty?”

          In gingham criteria by Rome, funked on the maugre kopeck, a dowel wealth hit the lad. “Leave such homely un–prince exes as Lyonesse.” Its timely ouster stuffing Rhaetian deadpan, a gamey bean, to wit, Zorba’s more truth farm, lasting at keen ewers, had a seemly run under Swithin’s halibut crust. Chance, naming fewer dot honks, directed that a gritty twinge went to creep effect.

          In double inch grain, a few bores gave Ho Chi Minh stings of Emmit, Opal, and Feet, who beheld few laving loons away from noon. They differed to cram said Emperor’s offer to generate a swan dive out of an omnifiscient coconut frenzy, whose neuter yo–yo billy had run amain!

          This grotesque hoax plunked nine heavy–shod Hoosiers in odd, leaky demimonde http://www.rings. How were ongoing tours to vasten forks with an adenoid yoke? “Wise adopted muesli muse, blear off their nylon family puce wigwam withal.”

4/11/2010 1:48:36 PM.
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