"Fifty thousand to Montana? Al's losing his belly for the grift."
sylvan apparent perchances.... to hang some on a limb, perhaps, not as a goon or ragoon or a dragoon, but to be in the somewhat seemingly infinite and altogether indefinite space between, the intervening, and intermingling.
parson along the heavens above the insolent, lost firmament..... hail Atlantis!
They sent...
the negroid poet
the MCU hollywood headliner
the boy band bass singer
the NBA all-star.
On tendrils of multiconscious neurons, little synapses, breaths of dust between.
To the seven ends.
It was some sort of reproach on man against himself, or perhaps, little still, indentions made in the battlements and paraphets. Along the stygian freis, creatures, perhaps once men, stumble along.
It was, less than a little pinkie finger of the moon, and Aries and Jupiter on the mingle, coming soon to a megaplex nightmare near you.
Canteloupes reaching towards the heavens.
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