Ralfshaus

Dart and backwater clockworker was sounding upper. The thickheaded servant girl calf ranch. How many heads do they have, the fife pigments, the chocolate Guernsy looked vaguely yellow? Filthy remark, quintuplet bouncing wild coaster stanzas saugage gentility. Peeked sullen gadfly from the throwout neckband jingoed the olive bin trolly pole accomplishment. Chincy troubadour or three wheeled psychiatrist started a boy’s fig luster law suit by himself with perveyors of you-know-how, a certain greaseless Mr. Coal Shovel, Brotherhood of Bowling Creeps. Rodents so large, a five way midway, exporting millionaire dabblers. Darn great telegram to droopy Mexican skidpants, qualified for the rust and twilled crossway cumberbund. Beat with a small stick the gridiron Moorish battlecry. We had to clear the peanut butter breakthrough in the Chamber of Commerce, an avenue mint stevedore. More regional than gynecological, the long haired sleeping seawolf of the pea items’ foster children in the copulating flagstone saltpool. Point to the gesticulating, insane roundhouse, the incongruous munitions dump incorporation papers. Bye-bye Mr. Drinkbook, hayfield flatter, gesting stepchild of plastic Ecuadorian pawnbrokers’ domed skatterbrain. Humoring the Black Hoard, medium flynn, the Taiwanese counterfeit witchblow spiral regroup ingredients. Pregnant healer, nozzle mouth mayor, Lutheran shoe polish ditch flower pot jalopy, Ethiopian vermicelli rape, forgetting the Slavic bulldozer from the feather bureaucrat, baptismal bean house, I’m glad to talk to you, you and the cucumber plumber, the nauseating corrugated oyster night, accelerated the motly Cuban grocery store. You hate poetry. You hate poetry and music and butteflies and jetfighters and jello and the Bordeaux oilpatch.