meet me out back and we'll throw tomatoes
o.k.
so I’ve got a confession to make.
I’m actually nuts.
no really.
I honestly shouldn’t be let outside.
//probably but only after they barked at my rector and fed it to the helmetmen. they like the way they squeal. friggin hell. i mashed them to a pulp last time. making love to johnny cash was quite the experience since we didn't have socks on. apple cores make me horny. i just talked to gaylord and barfed up a whale. he slipped down to a windex commercial and said "marnie".
i'll see you friday yes? unless you're out pounding on the llamas during their carnation meeting with a lampshade bulb again. i saw that yesterday and feel into a puddle of steam and walnuts. i hate doing that because then i break into a run with all of the raspberries. it tends to set them off. but if you manage to pull off a little pinch racket and smother them with liquid tips to share the refried beans (without pits), they might just squirt daffodils into a circle. but goodluck with that. i know how hard it can be without the lazy jimmney glick in lalawood. watchout for the downfall, you may need a pair of socks for the ride up.
also..i thought that i would add in that bugs were complaining about the lack of marmalade within the cervix of melon's calling. when the tubas were out last night they could hardly wait for guss. he makes them scream. did you ever think about racinette coming for a biscuit upon a licket's walnut? whenever i listen to hunger they get a slimey and wet the bed. harsh for the wallflowers for leaving them alone to froth at the mouth. whatever happens to penelope i regret shoving her into the tub of pizzacrusts and weasels because she can't swim, nor can she leave anyone sitting down. alright, well i guess that leaves you with about 23 cents, think you can manage down the sumberparty until tuesday? it's only that way on sundays and every other thrusday after 3:47 am.
eat some nickels and don't take a wooden spoon from a leprachon, they may spit in your eye. without jacob the two two, we couldn't reach tulips pink eye cream. realizing ketchup doesn't travel well without gravel nipits and papermates, he jerked until slipping into a bowl of onions
//blashnaught
when i told harry about the wisdom teeth he blew a ferrysnot. sent him in the spins. won't let that happen on tuesdays again. some by me thought that he was giving birth. that was a close one. when will pellegrino make mixed berries atop the cumberson ways throughout it? snarfle.
//love for the pandas. make sure they don't let on we're coming down tubes in our granny panties. the beer will make a run for it and stop at a green light. forever holding back penlights and the afterglow. haha oh greg.
left or right doesn't make sense when you're in a circle. nor does the sound of wind in a pink martini. let it be. there can't be light without a fingernail in gum paste.
i seem to have forgotten about martha stewart. she does all those lovely bookcovers on seaseme street without clothes on. oh wait she does have green nail polish and a leather studded leash. trident requested her to spit on salmon while mating. shouldn't be hard with her blackflip talent.
then there's weight problems. YOU'RE FAT. but so far sipping on liquior and nasal tips holds back the hunger. what would you do without the mochasins? liposuction took place during a ski trip, but the waver form wouldn't allow her to make a bypass on tube socks. next time maybe.
terrets have taken ov-FUCKSHITDAMNBALLS. they seem to YELLOWSNAPPER out during the sundown. godforbid they make a dash for PENISWACKER. STUPIDSTUPIDSNUD.
//living on the edge doesn’t thrill me at all when I cant remember blighty’s middle name for the yankee lesson. next time there’ll be wisdom without passion forgo the side of fries. don’t even think about daddling over to cucumber street for our Sunday rondevue, I see what limpets plan of dice is. so the maybe I’ll shove relish up your snortle and wish for the best.
without red, the barnacles saw right through the window pane into a sea farm. leaving a rash on their elbows, they ran into a trunk of yellow squeeze dumplings. on the verge of turning into flubber they squirted out marshmellows until they turned blue.
hunting for rabbit's feet the mayor fell in a bear belly. all of the fluff and jelly and gravy sent the witchs into a spin, knocking over buttons of nardlucks.
//marshmallows are now called flipnotes without a filling because of the lack of peanut sized eye twitches around the table space.
alright, well i thought that i would let you know about planters. he told me when you squeeze on their big toenails, eleven yellow ribbons spurt out. i sometimes use them to wrap up leftovers and leave out the yarn of furbies. unless they compliment me on my onion wraps.then its just downhill from there. with all the hillbillies intact. by the way, the can of tuna you left covered in bird hair started to make nicenice with my sofa covers. i had to tone down on their feeding time to ensure they left more bananas to drive me to walmart. other then that he won't brush his teeth at noon, which can be quite the issue if you shove the whole wad of cotton down his throat.
i'll stop by your store of beaver wrinkles later on to see if you can fix my drooping belly button.
//ok so let's do this over. everytime i say pickle you just snort out a lemon okay? then after we've had all our fun on the go-go-coasters we'll leave marbles in the laundry men's underpants yeah? they're always telling me how much they love the blue ones. but whenever we leave without saying goodbye it always ends retardedly odd. hamsters crash into a beef turkey and look out the window to say "as if they needed dessert". cramps are coming on. so it might be best to leave the dressing off liam. but he's alright to wander around in tube socks. he likes the breeze.
and please remind me to cash out. whenever i close there always seems to be a drifting videotape of bob dylan and 3 geese on holiday. sometimes it's covered in mustard. then that just gets even more akward when the customers see me licking it. heaven forbid i should run into your grandmother, the one with all the stencils, and make her leave her root canal.
as for tomorrow i don't know if i can make it. seeing you leave the grocery store carrying a carton of rotten eggs and mushroom soup without the lid is getting a little old. try to be a little more creative okay? i like the mix of dill-fried chicken and platelets. it's a real spooky one. and including a jar of rubber teeth, with out the lovenotes.
//never in my holiest earth mama did i ever think barbequed ribs would go on sale for a swap of menthol gum or nike sneakers. but my. oh my, yesterday as i was passing by the billard hall in pee-wee alley did i see. low and behold a market of ribs. so i figured out a way to scramble some eggs together to consort them into seperate condom containers and ship them off to thailand for the sneakers. apparently they have to be blue and previously owned by cattle. picky picky.
anyways. i got the ribs.
got them home to my box on 5th
and shoved them up my ass.
//i hate it when you do that. every time it rains you seem to think that leaking on the roof with all the snails intact is okay. but really they only like on a thursday with california written all over your arms. so you better give them a day off to chill the soda
forgetting about all of the map history classes can be quite the challenge for a parrot. but if coaxed with an envelope soaked in marmalade and geese turds he seems to jerk out pots and pans, of course the new and shiney green ones. all of the leftovers seem to cheese out raindrops. but then again it’s all gooey after 6pm. flips always catch my pink eye. over and over they witness my shower habits. which can be quite original.
…
right.
so.
roundandroundwego. your turn