With a shot in the dark and bouncing around with bubble wrap, only the cut below the knees leaves a severed nerve to pounce on the quarter stakes. High in the low end, with no stop to the dead flame, all hands in the air wave only so much as to swot flies and gnats from landing on the face.
Reaping rewards sinks deep in the mire of the bad swamps, slicing skin from the epidermis and exposing the kind of flesh that stinks ripe for blowflies and cannibals.
Low ball jumps round and a kick in the ear lobe is swift with each successive concussion a break down by the cents. Shy of two melts back into a half of three before the obliteration four fold back into the red. And here on a day of two opera singers in the bank.
Friday, 1 June 2007
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Elemunk scrambles the loose connections bouncing about the mind of Soon Van.
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