Needles, Nibbitz, And Sun
by BORGLES Timbo

MY CORPULENT SOCKS ARE FILLED WITH NICKELS

Eastwood's head in brine of pickles. The fickle nightshade broaches my locket. JEWELS IN THE pouch.

Evil Rognab has feebled your tweezers. Dang dolefully on the dingchips, if package delivery must be igloo-dead. Red Snebberziz.

ou sont mes tempts de bay-bay-cuze?

FASSBINDER! FASSBINDER you overwrought knapsack. Tip tremblingly on the torque chanquitarde.

FEEL IT?
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You're reading a piece from Audience of Two's online magazine, originally published Almost 1 year ago
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