i am a genious. you got the goose, i got the hoos-koos.
the murdered duck scaled the castle walls looking for a way to enter. it must have been in germany because the polyvinylchlorinothons were like squares. the waterfalls were casting shadows on the secretaries pencils.dhis tongue tasted like duck meat and old parachutes. no matter, he was in battle mode, as you call it, "the tortois of the golfskirts". he was sure that odyessues liked water, or had he been mistaken? his axe was dry and the crazy scheme of things was like a firefly in the sea. his head was looping, but the drawbridge at the center of the castle begger for its hinges to be tightened. slowly the murdered ducklet inched closer. closer. and closer. until the dewwy smell of the hen sticks tickled his fancy. the murdered duck drew nearer and in the final moments of his great escapade he tightened the hinges to their liking. "it was like hanger love, the way the duckpond dries," said the murdered duck on his way to his next valiant occupation: cheese blower by way of the haystack.