To pique my interest, I hiked to the peak of the mountain to take peek. While there taking in the fresh air, what meat do I meet? An heiress and heir, hairless by error. There, they’re serious, talking of their Witch of Sirius, of which they rapped to the point of becoming completely rapt before they wrapped. The wind whined and blew through her sewn blue flowered clothes to ram a wined floured sow. So close! It flew through a spayed ram with the flu into a closed flue like a spade. Yew! You should of seen the scene, but wait! A ewe of weight dove to the foot of the five-hundred-foot cliff to land on the foot of a dove. I hope he’ll heal, especially his heel. The dove, like a coiled spring in the springtime, sprang from the bough above a rain-filled spring like a reigning reindeer with a big blue bow on a row of roses, then rose and took a bow on the bow of a dingy dinghy. To raise the stakes, he then razed one more time, and won with raised steaks. Oh, those days. What a daze! And, oh dear, I forgot the deer and the wailing whale hole of Wales! Heard? A whole herd. I hiked higher to hire a heroine on heroin with a pair of pears to pare and wring two gorillas, and a guerilla ring too. We rode down the bridle road eating cereal like serial killers at a bridal shower before braking to take a break and bruise a couple brews. Where we were and what ware we’d wear was why we wondered whether or not our knots would weather like wood. For the four lessons here are to hear, lessen, and move forth to the fourth.
Buy it by now? No? I know. Bye!
