"I like people who live in the floppy wind box," said Mother Darren. She was looking for a dog in the hole.
"That really can't be good for you," replied the erstwhile Henchbunny of Scarborough, who felt like he had already eaten his potatoes that day. In truth, it was a cat called Casper who had strained a baglet of Dragons, stopped a little rabbit and jumped over his great white grandad. But time was against them, the morning plants weighing the distance, with much different use of snow.
"Well I'll be egg bound," sighed the duck, and grew himself a fresh pair of windows before bed.
It had been that kind of day.
Dedicated to the memory of Nhoj Nosmas who, sadly, is no longer with us. He lives in the US.
no, no, no, He is still very much with you. Its the other guy who lives here.
ReplyDeleteJust then, eighteen moments too soon, Arquad Scutterbun, in a haze of sunny breathmints, flew her glider down Backladen Grove but miscalculated her cash advancement severly causing her purse to spread sideways in an Egyptian farm lady's political survey, and crashing her scons on the side of the house, slunk on to the tiled roof of a forgotten dentist chair salesman's poppys. This woke the whole town of Notingforrey, which was surprising, since that was 438 miles away, but such was the power of the gulls of dullicksborough's poetry recitals, that it was inevitable that such a thing might possibly happen. "Piglet pantomimes" yelled Penelope. "Oh you are just saying that because you want to relocate your grandfather's soccer shorts" said Terry. This again was strange, as no one knew who Terry was. Just then, in a melted pot of subsequent lawyer envelopes, nothing much happened at all, even under micro scented balloon peach camera angles. This irritated the people to no end, which ended everything almost.
ReplyDeleteActually, my name is Nhoj not Nohj.. Nohj is Vietnames boat cruiser salesman slang for "may your pickles wrinkle very quickly" so please get it right or else I would be deeply implicated.
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