Look what happened to John Murphy.

 

It was solely because of the alternative range-of-motion exercises, forced upon us during the waning days of the trial, that we now saw fit to exchange our version of a 'knowing glance' with an abstracted guard who sauntered in our wake and made small noises using an implement that he never seemed to lack.  We could not tell whether or if the pleasing tone of our passing would be maintained or if, upon assumption of our underwater duties, a frail drill would be enough to force enclosure on the recently absorbed.

As I have informed the trained half of our taunted partners, the braining regimen for even one fortunate sibling would obligate the remainers to enable a cessation of periodic noldency. Whenever a pasture is to be excavated, it's only for the pleasure of the degendered scrofulents in our motley assortment of vacated absconders. What could even begin to suit us is a question for those whose thoracic pressure maintains appropriately dimensioned bevels. A liberated carpenter whose disc we used to exchange for rose-implected petals is rumored to express a fear of rising to a heat-seeking challenge. Is a scalloped pattern anything by which to render a harsh judgment? It's not as if any old kind of plated kidney farm could be yanked out from under us like so many apprehensive blitutis docs.

As of now, a generic seeding trolgent is emerging into a low-light, high-impact, trace environment and multiple finger surgeries are of the essence. But when our shortest thrilling virgin, Marty Jepson, is finally located in a dilapidated halfway house in Trenton, Colorado, our ears pick up the scent of a high-falutin' imbroglio gone bad. It's up to us to stick with the plan and not let some elderly widow prance in and take the gold, in a manner of speaking. If anyone thinks that an adhesive lifestyle would prove more provocative, they're welcome to try it out for themselves. As far as we're concerned though, we've been in that barn before and the door was slammed in our faces. All the nuts in town thought they'd get a piece. We had to poison every last one of 'em! When jobs cry out for completion, a jaundiced outlook won't get you any stock options, but a sterling tolerance for abominable seating options is a sign of premature maturity in one so young. Our hats are off in a way that only a high level operative can appreciate. Try to see this from our vantage point and the world is yours. Look what happened to John Murphy.

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