walked down the set street. Frankensteins of time period and style. One stopped and like an elderly person put a hand on the forearm of the other. I smell her muda perfooooom. The one with a hand put on backflipped, put a foot on the downed child's chest, and pointed the thickly painted white rifle in his face.
In a real close basement women trying to find heels that fit from a cache of stolen goods heard the tiger roar of the I'm in charge of the, this.
"What was that?" A dressed to the nines very tan woman with an Egyptian wig on sideways asked out loud. She was looking at her barefeet and
Two moms climbed up on a gigantic spool to look through the basement window.
Puuuuuuuul
"Does anybody else feel that?"
A boyman threw the Navy ship rope down. Stood off, heaved in air, couldn't stop laughing. Men rushed over. He bent over stitches in stomach they put a hand each on his back and talked in each ear.
The main in the dress shirt diaper loin cloth yellordered PUUUUUUUUUL
"Waaasz in dah hole?"
The army person didn't look up from the sandy and grimey papers on the clipboard.
The woman in a Russian cakebox fur covered hat and parasol was lifted by two very large hunks of manmeat by them hooking arms under her armpits. She flew like Mary Poppins through the air and landed like a lover mountain climbing a bed of silk sheets. Or like a tree frog against a windowpane before a hurricane.
Two sets of hairy arms clad in various gold bracelets picked up the umbrella and the little lady. She brushed the Victorian skirts off of sand and dried oil grit.
She crossed her arms and tapped a lady's Victorian boot. "Waaasz in dah hole?" She asked again. Her lips puckered. Her hand reached into a waistcoat pocket and she pulled out a compact with lipstick tubes pressed against. A boyman sitting in a lawnchair under a table umbrella spit, out past his mile long legs. He crossed his arms over pounds of gold chains. Pulled feet in tube socks toward himself to slightly bend his knees. Then he sat up, switched chairs, put a ballcap on a little off center, and sounded like a singing gangster when he made pistols of his hands. "Waaasz he do?"
Just then a troupe of international soldiers rounded the octagon field around the air traffic control tower. Marching in unison. One arm stiffly swinging. Rifle spears steady pinpoints from above.
People hopped to
The storyman got under the patio table frame without its glass. A similar looking boy man sat in the first chair. He stood up abruptly. "It waaasz
"The hole?
"Oh that." He waved away all of it with a wave of the hand. "It was the Donald's."
The woman put the compact into her other waistcoat pocket and dropped a lipstick. The tall boyman leaned down, hitting his eyebrow on the table, picked up the tube of lip rouge and put it on a ring pillow before acting like the pillow was a waiter tray. Bending at waist, rising tall, gyrating hand in air to introduce the object back to the woman, "wallah mademoiselle." She plucked the tube from the tooth fairy pillow.
"And who are you?" A real cultural attache inquired.
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