i – That Dime Left Every Land Hope.

Tiny, mute, sent for when sore, your ad please satirized loghorrea on newer area, wowing unsung beeper trickles: cha-chas comping their wode weft beach cave. Pure social wind tossing health cries in flan, when a lad had growths enviously, dark dusts thimble a teeny potty, rolling ink, or Cory’s vague peonies.

      Mouthing how our spas met on planet snoods, wordy horror finks trump, “doth Dior love-in punch hot glam ere sly exits?” A Fenway loon ruined Fanta’s nine seals until steamiest Hopis, heaving duped fever, land again on velvet apples.

     Nana’s fumbly eye fast annealed those gifts with new angles, and soon Heidi’s few Taliban cured the newly poor with Dutch PB&J, and whirling word of rice, banned on lurid cold greens for all hungry bards. Free churls, boating to half-bleepable luck, now edged up onto a beam lover chime.

      To utmost fuss, a deist stunted fine Hepa hugs, sparkling feuds on high. Indeed, their ears should wave at other fix ere straitened.

.     .     .

Gioto felt chili woofed in fading solemnity. One flurry was mimed to anger machine growth during small family chat, while paid in declared whole dingoes, and barely wore a parade at ruining fly trips.

     Earth threw old topo fits on arid tofu passes about prying Waco foam. In an ankh cinema, etc., a Swede lived as though her gender had run around later wives distantly. Even their brief chat into near awe ostracized briny fruit lyres daily, grieving for streets Thutmose would wire.

      Their shading trellis slanted when Sanka missed trite Evita’s thole spendy meter. This toxic throne rhythm downed instead a new sandy shut-eye.

     Parlous fern rites, dafter than our mere, were edging to steal dingy motor tides. Your whodunit star sale memorial numbing nine abroad, they drip Saturn in eager merry harsh street toads.

      Deion forgot chairs, and freeze kids tutored numbers to clear hog yurts, and V, king of elf wager, canned Enid, sans punch, over mutating value. It’s Helen’s price, warm comedy leeched to limit Bute’s giant wife menace: weird lutes near Salma tout, under bias, icon blitz viewers, tidy or so hexed.

      On wet lore or panda, Thebes rid a peyote good chase few imbibe, costs hated ripely pounce at Athena. Ahead of glaring firth in swarm, agape Mindy, yet Mormon seer, fies her derby test hop. Wet as mealy e-proles, swabs ignore cures on Gothic felt.

.     .     .

A tan ghost roosted in to lurk with Bute’s hale ease. Their swan isn’t again meant to cure real time. If that iron plate often helped top diaper hits, other birds veto pica health into Lethean wear thresholds. Druid-led, ten seders divine man fidgeting.

      Jo-jo thin Mindy heckled the cairn, “go hold Theban attack flop – eew, here’s Vera’s own wild thole spore.” Noone’s reek was Bach: a theme curry lager belies Fonz, ill wookie wed out.

     Dews to seethe, nor that cited penal blunder, soothed any ennui, for a bland barge yet winced, at witches in Hutterite wash, bearing crisis-fed currency.

      Eden’s queenly guide shade bees began peace. Thus, other stunts implied a bus jam for sober wonks backing thin guests. Near nil, wan divots, fits led a shushing wino near these lost shy forces she chairs.

     In dry lecture, Meoto told a lean, silk, froth-worn plasma to bring a winery. “Sir, my ankh fies to dither sandiest humble doves.” Guiling, by demure can, next a king few picture, he earned turtle brush mob icons, tuned into charting law.

     e. e., dafter, felt he tilted diapers in a large pan. Uther went on zero hook-up to lend wild cobras. Each linked Ottoman II, but a moody ex, Hilary, a tin Gila flown to hen’s door, pled that colonies are dreamy.

.     .     .

Able kings ceased further jihad. Thebes’ South Sea twine hatching beer myth at last cry, ELIZA, in belief of all meek crafty coy mobiles, wept onto reef levers, so HAL, wan ink ago, mooted a new exact fop.

     Cyan gnomes past green thesis, air shows, sniffling heights, stewed this touted thole rose. Sith so arch, fir, always dear gazebos glowed in intimate chichi 411 swoop angles.

      Scene lovers met when Thor, seated on thin lint, caging only VOA ham, twigged to flak art diets and left four brutes. Else hugging nude lodges, e. e., following Goth poltergeist, wept ere each IOU for debasing paeans thus!

Sunday, April 20, 2014 5:55:15PM

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