The Dark Secret of the Princess Van Sykes.

A 'must do', in the matter of Princess Van Sykes, would, in a rounding pie-ball creed of substance, sort itself inside the error we have discussed just yesterday afternoon. What do you call it when a name has its own name, but that name is not, in fact, 'name'? A sort of sink joke, some might end up saying, but, let's be fair (just this once, okay?), not all people in this type of category could even begin to consider ending up, really, in any sort of location (quasi or otherwise) whatsoever. My apologies and your rude thing will not improve, but, as far as flavor goes, that's a whole other type of game that could be played with (or even without, if we 'do it' on paper) a so-called 'ball'.

If anyone knows, could they please confirm, that back in Fourth Form, my pelvis was given the nickname 'Pepper'. That's right, everyone just thought it was perfectly fine to refer, in a smirking fashion, to Pepper the Pelvis. You know who wasn't in the least amused? Mr Abrid Silfner, that's who! And no, I couldn't be happier with how everything turned out. The previous sentence was a damnable lie. The sad fact is, I COULD be happier about this whole affair, it's just that I don't find myself to be so inclined at this exact moment of my development into a vibrant young Princess Van Sykes! And you paid for it! Don't forget this very thing or some type of upset would appear to be likely in the offing.

Beast quasnercky is for the planned piece, a rain which feeds the 'whelp factor', among the light lidded set, if on parole but not while wearing a hat which resembles a sandwich, but we are sorry. It did not have to be this way, or so we told ourselves back in that sickly sweet time before our TV show's unjustified demise. We have requested that you hold off but, as of now, not even every alternate fourth one has failed to 'hear black' when the duck flees the toad and our plans are laid waste like so many somberly dressed snoods. A gaping vapid cleft in her waning pocket blast inspires just such an attitude that could ruin some thing which is not yet of great size, if that means squat to the fetid likes of so-called 'you'. We just were not that bold in retrospect. I'll tell you something else. No, I won't.