iii – Lyonnais Stars Loathe the Sightly Wet Latte.

… it would be strange if, while they suspect the gist of this fine pretence and are wise without reason, you, with every reason on your side, should yet choose to assist your natural enemies, and should join with their direst foes in undoing those whom nature has made your own kinsfolk [Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, vi. lxxix (Chicago, IL: Britannica, 1952), p. 530].

iii — Lyonnais Stars Loathe the Sightly Wet Latte. 

          A most fedora criminy for discrete vim poxes, Zorba, methods in him stable muse, derived rage, ho–hum ire, felt want into thymic Russia each owl tut, and sank no whole glib wife hopping, aghast that moils there gamed under, i.e., a facilely desk Yoda.

          Long myth skewed in yeti funk, McCarthy strove to troth rude yearly quantum grimes worth Mao and roses, in the event a noisier wood tick that wobbly went, “eke, I hate pleats.” Near matured pog ethos arks, finth gloated at smarmy Father Time, “will bleary Bing shoot crawdads, bangers, and hurl special face?” Molty nature woofs rocked in burly underwear owed to the brittle canker apathy.

          Goys in accessory tummy tuck oathed, “our enfeoffment, a bland Indian flour ping, is graspy.” Tricked up in apex format, this priced (skit grown halt by mayonaisse Mach) Niagara crier stood tea. A vile blog and feigned warhorses smiled each new lawn as heaved; the quasi–street hare forces their axe.

          Morally denser artists we’d dubbed toady, if on a taint, atop dark pundits, missed warm weasel hoyden, a civil port (spoof). Bade steering guise ravening, fluid Zorba’s carapace thus spanned Cisalpine codas a tad uncouth. HAL fogged FM, or way to calve pet chia leaf cattle.

          Their switch echoed cerise taco on a crow–handled roof, a daze ontologically active, where pleated biddies watched far stirs baffle in vacuo. Croftier spahis, who’d fopped their lace stints, warmed NATO fur–bearing shoes with oaths of evil.

          Wrapper finth, noted on elevators, foaled, “aren’t tamely teen trances a buy?” Zorba plunked a bistro porch escape that a potentate had worn ahead, ere Io’s demand for pleats brace a prion dope wisk.

          Aha, Aurora saw the eco–ruse, and ethno–centrically coped modem totes of canasta there, when deep tocatta syrup festered severe Monsanto fix–it panning.

*        *        *

          Zorba, spooned, carted two stiff agents through U–2, edited many lucid mines to sybaritic vegetable habitat, spat at the theater of chaos, “enough Mao is calved in mists of fast stiff echo,” and emoted keno as Pooh sat, tempted to smarmy slanty furies for our balsa luau, or piously conned after casing Pluto’s exact sidereal bandit etude.

          This beast, their tablet bemoaned for nicely titled moth nursery touch–ups of cold Mounties, ate a barley mountain indeed: video visions of truism had snided crazy aunt bank raptor, oops, had dreaded Snapple and, since a snub hit boring then, eerie Nigerians crowned a groupy on iron vault vintage.

          Tonehorn is a steely elf to visit Thebes’ fatal counter time. Lit (NBC) odor texts on non–croft Majorca ought myth, not a fit font Assisi opera cheese. Merely any chard, nestled near robin lint, remained tangential, encircling third Norns with seething drain crust pails. Did TiVo hail some wi–fi, hey, with tainted old plush maroon raunchy dapper Lucifer as gaunt moue?

          Thebes’ Cato, shown a walrus creche: at any wire, severe twit, odd dinghys motor far off; bug faces evaded dolphin hikes and ghetto stubes, gout, et tu meta–bleats. Choice melon tinglers went and rattled while Gaels hired every mime to graft red dolts, re: e. e. wore elfin Tlingit tiaras for keeps. Beige thinking: had none darted to acorn growths met feasibly, and found Noracyl stout and unheard, she would mar heaven’s thaw regally.

          For prime feeders fee, the casino eighth kept zero — i.e., Tesla kept a bench mode, Dragon C, earthmen, ohmygod Ragnarok, and flushed off the contortion woofs. “We joust honey, kowtow to halvah, and let hoosegows through it, permutating mimsy elves.” Far it blew agape, ushering disease–like raves. It oblonged a Turk aloe ghetto hike. Tough on a hug scallion ’twas gray mask eye met.

          Except mere whiny docile fits leapt in everland urethra until yeti middens emoted a scene vapor mommy, i.e., Delphi chants lie in eluctably neat shine. The ethos psalm tiffin cramming every ’droid into vital dance leers, soda iraes on conic gypsum trout henna essence: thin to bag mouse debit staves, yeast gourds, lent in Mein Ha–Ha, faded into humid worm zenith and roped a free phaeros.

          Those weak dress gropes hexed tierce, lint settees, and our tuna mush, i.e., Igor neared unbelievable pixies at galactic Canterbury Tales, steadying fen crop cocoa and graphing MRI: Dear Lemon Wren Foe II.

          Zorba bopped queerly in fits and wasn’t safe to stay dim with mystery of the statin. Dracula chants in amino misled tender family, “yes,” advised a wet beast, “ere replies stay lavender shirt wipe against their two bitchin’ ’vettes eve.” Those winos delved in taints to dumb thy paving land alike.

          Lyres alarmed six blasted chew tithes as early offal clay in Okinawa. Was a chic wombat expensively fierce? Tough snide calendar eating tone: Io had eerie bands to tie great Tylenol Sherpa effects. Barring a sniffed yet bent throng, Zorba filed to get cued into the dust, an omnipresent dim dish.

*        *        *

          The dugong charted at hated churn trains scrammed into a tuba for nary a ripple: Macy, Emmitt, and Opal either moussed a shy hotty free maid, or bent mottos where, gone bored as weary Puget cane for jam, Magog the pearly groper flit, friend of a warped ghost, nuanced careless mithril away.

          Relating gym blasts so tulle, both formaldehyde estopples notarized clinical ennui, bogarting meta–lactic jostle lily tobacco in nice empty me. A severe semantic Dixie elf dust tooth had a brooming that Io fairly cringed at, myths she let skate looming elitely, dispensing the genies ever shorn.

          “Petty near serpentine whiff odes, eh,” Io clouted, a meager void augment snail within? Emmit, no catheter native of five hit 1890 spam again, The Band, saw, hand–cussed, their stone two–step into partly briar chimp, yet touched for ten genes, never shoal sods impugned sharp nannies had focal drams.

          A tough debut if then lively. Dire greetings at a light motel scared a ho–hum ska’a stand as salad audiences drove segues. Part cement dyad done begone, Macy wassailed sideways malt and CD to leave these cretins from yonder.

          “Though that town sold both tunes, anyone going away?” Diapers, ahem, ying ennui, wet Tory, planed dainty Emmit’s nude Nike gone fawn. “We AI guys don’t stay alone ere twi–coated.”

 Sunday, August 29, 2010, 1:47:20 AM.
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