dentes' storey
"Simple. The answer was king of sunrise. What a surprise! The majesty of this situation defied logic to such an extent that it made her pregnant in advance of the municipal extension line that joined the conflicts so perfectly. Indeed this quality marked out the inconsistency of the elected body's decommissioning policies.
A fallacy of this magnitude warranted egoistic nonsense as propaganda for the elite. Of course there was cheese to make, but the oversized rodent of the economy was bursting at the seams.
But that was beside the point. Only the anointed could hope to progress against the night and even a family heirloom could cause agony to the unprepared. This sheer bloody mindedness was inevitable given the popularity of the artist. For she was worth worrying, whereas Waynemouth was a petrol station.
This petty theft of business practise led to the radicalisation of the medium. Water was key amongst the issues. Thriving in this ocean of amiss policies was the misconstruction of simple Nordic phrases.
Sadly, the protagonist of this tale was absent and the referee was adamant. No play can continue without parallels to the incident on Haiti. Those privy to such delicate information should consume a large amount of bacon rind for safety.
Philosophy was useless with such a paradigm shift. The crumbling edifice of the monarchy only just held order. Sunrise indeed! With a makeover and a jar of beads all was solved. Vast wars ended and a cake was baked.
Truly this was a tragedy. Compelled by the instinctive destruction inherent in the comedy, actors turned tail and burned like heretics in the path of the joint division. Haemorrhages were obsolete and all was shared." Said Dente to his guns.