And it is truly without these details which young ladies such as ours cannot sing unavailably until another power auger is introduced into the equation of life and all its cavalier attitudes toward such atrocities as the master would commit without even knowing he isn't not doing what can't not be unforgiven until your window to the door to the ladder to the sun where a cold little man with a cold little heart that unintentionally creates much static on the televisions without seeing, being, or craving a klingon clinging on for dear life like an alley cat without ears of corn on his feet.

But unlike likable links of love and lords who long for liverwurst, President Lincoln cannot be heard over the sandstorm as he called "CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" to Jacob and his camel where they stood. But he called only in reply "I CANNOT!" and he rode towards Saturn, draining the sky of orange soda which falls from the sewers of which virtues are evilly planning unvirtuous actions against virtuous vegans on Venus.

But as it was and is not no more, a quagmire did form from the bubbles of acid which was smoked by the glorious artists who crafted great works of Gods and Men written by angels who's dust is skated upon at dusk without a couch that ways an ounce in which insects heal wings with wills with the wrong rites and equal rights and many, many, bug bites. A serial killer did stalk the night, and Jacob was right to use his might alongside Edward. They did seek out the killer, in hopes of destroying his anger against pains of glass which were sharpened on the gills of whales shrieked by banshees named Suzy.

A country was named in his honor, while Edward was then impaled upon Jacob's sword as he swore he would only fight by night in mid-flight. But gunships were armed and ready to pay the way to the players whose prayers were kindled brightly by water and gasoline which was flared to life by the very same wife whose bath was always a wafer by the tabletop of Cyprus. A kindred spirit he was.

But anon and harrow. Matilda waltzed lovingly as New Zealand sank into the sea due to the actions of Jacob whose tap dancing was shot in the arm because vaccination was urgently needed by the people of Mars whose names were spelt in Reformed Egyptian whilst mercilessly merciful Mormon missionaries mourn in the morning in Manhattan, making maidens named Megan and Mary meekly moan for meat. And Benedict Arnold armed armies of emperor penguins with prickly pikes with poisoned points, which was a pointless action. But Chaucer wrote it all down because he longed for the love of a leather boot who lamely lingers at the late day and die down in dairy products endlessly wanting more.

A colonial house was set ablaze by barons wearing beautiful berets and bonnets made of baseballs and balloons. But badly broken was the boat, and an eel did seethe through the cracks and penetrate the impenetrable prison of perilous people placed there for their protection. It wasn't however, really not that which isn't always understated and said dryly as a cupola sat clucking while the chicken kept the house dry from the farm animals who came raining down from the sky like stars during a meteor shower in which oceans break into many pieces that were sprinkled on your morning serial killer. But as such, the nations are at work picking the sunspots out of the sun for to consume very deliciously as to with without virtues like rain which reign over everyone last one of us and then some.

But Edward was tactful, and knew how to outsmart his opponents, and by using his mighty club, he killed Jacob, sending the vapors that his body was reduced to out into the cosmos where they would float for an eternity evermore. For they died without caterpillars, and the hosts were all without way to fire their arrows for their bows had been stolen by evil violinists from Neptune to play brown note songs with, and without Jacob, there was no one to stop them.

Another aimless day did pass, that Edward attended that holy mass, pondering the makings of the universe with which all things are built and made. But harrow and without thin archers we cannot believe the ways we were conceived atop David Bowie's head inside a moon base. But why? It cannot be answered the way that you would will it wished be answered willingly wishfully. Another wonderment angel and killed deaf person to death without a wingless angel to guard his heart from the heart of darkness and its art while Kilroy wept at Vadermort's death again and again.

Like a ton of bricks weighing more than a stone fell atop Edward, dropped on him by Jacob, they did successfully kill him. "Victory is mine!" said Jacob, rejoicing at Edwad's death. But all of what you have just read is merely a merry metaphor of meta-cognition without masterful crafts of creation and credit scores crappily creeping quietly along the bottom of the ocean in the sense of unanswerable questions answered by a man named Answer Me who did lie with a girl named A Girl Named. Erotica.