Bathed in the glory of the beauty of whatchamacallit

ba4fd7cb8bd5397c35c2a07a7ddddb69The tears blazed of out God’s eyes like beautiful meteors, raining down onto the Earth like tiny intercontinental ballistic miracles. They touched down, they detonated, and everywhere in the sprinkle zone people was a splishin’ and splashin’ in the fantasmacism of golden salty nectarness. A child of three sprouted the moustache of an Apache that kicked a moonbooted disco maniac into dancing a light-loafered fandango that blew the doors off a barn that housed a party-rock pick-up truck that with a toot-toot-honky-honk rampaged off through a sweet bog that was chock-a-block with muck and frogs and awesome bad gas, spraying it all burping and hissing up and on and all over a dizzle dazzle of a company picnic that was ragin’ in the meadow by Snake’s Lake and the freaking CEO and his wife did the smooth banana so hard that the company’s shares jumped three point four two points and a stock broker could not believe it so much and so deep and so hard he gave himself such a case of the bone-burglars that his skull and skin doctor fell down and broke so much breeze that the air authority declared a state of liquid wind.

Needless to say, it was quite the nooner.


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