At the tasklet over which we've labored so hard to pretend, I sat with my mouth open. The mind is clouded but the feet are swift. She paid for my decision so now I am due to be released into a sanctified natural aroma. All who desire are able to stake their emotional intelligence to a common frond. In the looming puzzle, the meaning of a feature is not long to befall a geriatric scofflaw. To be trained in the art of living is to be told of wise, pure necks and the angle to which they crane eagerly, even as abruptness fails, yet again, to enter an elementary picture. I go with one now, but in a day, two at most, all solidified traces will find their way onto my bonified doorstep. This will not take a team of three to analyze succinctly. At this juncture we can scarcely hope for as much.
More to it, our brow is festooned with a recently acquired Habukker Thread. As the lines spread with icy contiguity, I make it my duty to conform to the dictates of the reigning bovine princette. By her goal-setting prowess, all sentient spungiforms are gifted with a semi-permeable membrane to die for. If only. But now we move in pairs through to the Baker's study. He, though a master of the idiolated palinquer, moves swiftly to offer the least among us temporal exigents which strike us by turns dumb, blind, broad and garrulous, each speck reflective of its ongoing peripheral status in the eyes of any communist blob.
Posted on the floor of our gantry room is what appears to be a minuscule result of the least appeasing vocabule. I strain to announce my prickling treat, tantamount as it is to an angular rescue squat. The doors we enjoin with rapt x-vision. And only now a barely absentient cunieform tablet is hoist from the joiners and we ply the extraneous manjour until all anentic jimsons are now safely on display at the crown of the undertable's wifely extrusion. It's only the dream of lofty bromads which keeps us to absolving a paltry stain from the robe of a vainglorious Rector. He recites our plum. We encode his pain. As for the others, what of it could but render a salient movement in the breezeway where the signage is of no purported delinquery?
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I once went to a pharmacy that sold undeveloped negatives of photos. Why they had these? Who knew!. So I wanted to buy some if they would process them, but they were under strict orders to sell them "as is". I argued with my common sense and decided to purchase a few. Not knowing which would be the better choices for my unknown attraction to these things I chose two from each packet for a total of 986 negatives. After much negotiating I paid the man $9.86 and accepted $0.14 change from a $10 bill. In hindsight, I should have picked 14 more. But the deal was done! No going back...and I truly regret it even to this day. You can't go backwards in these kind of things. It's just a crying shame.
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