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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!" Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.  "Where are the 

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
...
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.  "Where are the exploding sun washers?!"

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!" Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them. The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.  "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting

Edited by JacquelineLHope
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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"



"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!" Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them. The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.



Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!" Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them. The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!" Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them. The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw acurious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!" Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them. The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to snowing rainbow confetti

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.  "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.  "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.  "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised

Edited by Actionmage

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?" "Seen what?" "I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom. Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space. "Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother who it was

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy.  The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"



"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"



"Seen what?"



"I seek the syringe!"



Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.



Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.



The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.



Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.



"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits.

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops,

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

 

"Seen what?"

 

"I seek the syringe!"

 

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

 

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

 

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

 

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

 

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves.

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves.

 

* Stop for breath. *

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"

"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"I seek the syringe!"

Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.

Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate.

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.

Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.

The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.

"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments

Edited by JTMacc99

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected:

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected: GOP PAC fundraisers,

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected: GOP PAC fundraisers, Australian catheter labs,

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected: GOP PAC fundraisers, Australian catheter labs, and on Slashdot.

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected: GOP PAC fundraisers, Australian catheter labs, and on Slashdot.

Bruce grabbed his

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected: GOP PAC fundraisers, Australian catheter labs, and on Slashdot.
Bruce grabbed his phaser and set

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One bright morning, Bruce looked out and saw a curious young man climbing the wall of ivied brick, only to find that his handhold wasn't stable. Bruce, curious as well, went to see a giant mushroom shaking the ivy and lighting it with Firebird's help, who flew in from over the cuckoo's nest. He decided that his inaction was ended. Bruce grabbed his pants and his shiny automatic handgun, and went to ask the man who had bright red talons on, and bright green underwear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm lost and looking for an antifungal syringe full of green goop. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"
"I seek the syringe!"
Bruce thought the worst as he recognized the mushroom as the one that turned him inside out and caused him to rethink reality. Then he aimed the banana pie launcher at the face of the mushroom.
Firebird turned from his continental breakfast, "I like pie covered in purple tomato ketchup!" He grows heirloom tomatoes, a lucrative trade nearly destroyed by giant polka dancers looking for their long lost tap shoes, bereft that they lost them.
The young man, still syringe seeking, looking endlessly for the man who was last seen wearing a paisley tank top and fuzzy bunny slippers. The young man, whose name is not James or Mordecai, climbed down and asked Bruce, lewdly and crudely, if he knew the way to the goop factory.
Bruce then rose and walked over to the young man, still aware that the sun was about to explode unless he hosed it down with precious, expensive elfin oracle mirrors. Bruce couldn't find the washing champagne and the purple ketchup, so he asked the young Icelandic troll witch who was an ornamental throw rug away from being a design major from outer space.
"Where are the exploding sun washers?!" Bruce was getting a bad feeling that it was soon going to be snowing rainbow confetti inside. He could see the large monster that his mother had saved and raised as Bruce's brother, who (it was rumored) had swollen adenoids and a reversed vasectomy. The monster could not be defeated with Madonna's skeletor hands nor Ben Affleck's chin, Rip Taylor's confetti, or even tamed by Dana Scully, who flipped the cap on the ugly old Uber driver who liked to wear vintage Chanel suits, Mukluk flip flops, chandelier earrings, Balenciaga red fingerless gloves and Jean Nate. The monster did something quite unmonsterlike by choosing to leave intelligent comments where least expected: GOP PAC fundraisers, Australian catheter labs, and on Slashdot.
Bruce grabbed his phaser and set it to "Fabulous."

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