| bleinko_le_scrunt | ||
| a torta |
apparently he wasn't ready for some football. not that it mattered to him anyway as here were other ghost_chickens to fry anyhow he had left the magnet_people behind and wwasn't looking diagonally except to adjust his surgically_repaired_parallelogram and make for hapsslj as quick as mice_pudding on teflon |
021009 |
| ... | ||
| not tonya |
ship of the desert chicken of the sea seven six five four three |
051007 |
| ... | ||
| Scantron Voltron Smith Jr. | too too much cholocate ike's ream on the maypole for warranted uninvestigation. washed down with some kraeuter, though, and the half-truths become half-untruths, with minimal kilojoules. PV-work, son, P V wooork. what goes on outside the moose_jar, though, now that's a hoe nuther thang. | 051008 |
| ... | ||
| paste! | so much can dampen a horchata said the erector with his gin_knife caked in applesauce. one side splinted to the other. so much pliability she screamed to a lake that wasn't a lake but a shoe filled with dynamite. | 051009 |