Bovine clipping cheat codes and ramshackle Sligo yinyangs will decorate this tayto authorized dealer. Forment a fomor and Boyle just might appear on thrice intimated beseeching. Ha ha, I am Boyle, cackled the apparition, fir trees vomiting at his unwelcome arrival. "Let me sampl the porridge, Oh!" Swwayed the tudor wedding mechanic. Brozne spittoons falling from the air. "That sitar mogul is my squire!" He whined. The perplexed marigold fumed to her cohort " He is blustering about his krisnaic mollycoddle of a caddie who summarily learned to kyak for Icelandic Intellegence; Darnatkenaital Sarjoophan, dance fiend and bright plumed aamway juglar." It was said One could still see his floating junket of Nordic highwaymen turned coast foals in the favonion west. Trrr! Boyle shimmied " Vviuv batlem moriscop! Veneal is thy name!" Molecules and atoms scattering about his petticoat like Southampton ashen rain, "Vitriol! Mercurious timtam! Orange julious!" A sudden gust of wind. Now ten kit foxes each carrying the aurulent gifts of Ben Yawheh upon their back, with little Netach bringing up the rear, pranced beneath the titanic chemist like fur coats nested by lightning bugs. " elochim! Elochim! They cheered" Boyle, charmed and alieviated of his discomfort wrestled a longpipe from out of his waistcoat. "Time and time again, I am humbled by the hopscotch of the almighty's unseen nation states of cuteness" "hooray!" Cried the vulpines " Kether, Geburah, Tzimitzum! Mastadon! Saber toothed tiger!" Tyranasaurus! Nimrod!" Exotic parrots shrieked and second rate yamaha drum kits blasted from out of the equitoreal biome. Mustard seed! Boyle whimpered, my only companion in the great alchemical picnic of Hyde garden," tart whites", Her Majesty always cooed.
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Limbs and all! Vocalized the birds. The kit foxes adorably stacked their glittery pellages against one another.
Boyle and the Fennecs receeded into the easy-bake oven's gravity well to the sound of Karl Jellumgal's Hardanger fiddle wrables. The jungles of deep space let out a comfortable sigh as the solar prince and sephirotic vulpines melded to form a paralax of good intentions. Their like would be needed at the coming of the age of Oriental flavor ramen and chiptune orchestras.
The sign of transmutation, bellsouth, Nickelodeon and the coat-of-arms of Canada radiated from out of the sun's corona and carried a gentle song of peace written by Zamphir-Zangiest; Iranian street fighter turned Lama to burn the oil out of the streets.
Earth was safe, the moon and sun earnestly spun themselves to greet the new alchemical wedding with science and magic at a truce for the first and only time in history.
