Happy on the cookie train to all the little pixie fuckers WAHOOOOO I like to dye my purple FUZZIES on the apex of an elliptical BARGE!!!!

Check YO self on the alphabetized version of TOLSTOY whilst you pirouette on your peanut butter pastry site!

Rearrange the april batter sprinkler on the garbage totter you himpy jousting canine flapjack!!!

Well you can take your monkey to the rifling hoops contest on the grippling havana beachboys dock to sweep the loathsome vile stoop mongrels who cower in the gyrating pencil cavern!

You can take your million dollar idea and fold it up into several millionths of an inch sideways looking very much like an orangutan who warps himself into cupcake tins to speak with the unintelligible ant farm detainees who wish to be tree flips and carreen deep into the darke recesses of my granola water slide munchies.

I shall materialize into such so that when you next see me I will be unrecognizeable as something completely unlike myself and more like a…Grapefruit.

Yes, but does that cake spring from batter mixed with the tibetan monks’ work weary hands of which a noodly curmudgeonly flouster would most certainly say, “Oh How hast thou yodeled my lovelorn Lulu’s red curly cricket fodder?” then thumping a disquieted tortoise on high whose rippling monkeyloose quail was flung into the deepest reaches of space.

Yet you are a himpy jousting canine flapjack, who most certainly needs some kind of modifications you your wizardly posterior tuddle by those which have no ocular cavities and hence have a rather well developed sense of what looks good with a burberry handbag at the seahorse water polo match at the Florida ring toss booth.

Rings on the fingers rings on the toes or rings on the bell towers or rings made of rose…a puddle of moose witling daisies at best, pompous old earwigs and aboriginies’ breast; yet these are the things to which I’m unclear; perhaps I’ll like parsnips better next year. Alas tis the time for grasping a flute, or sending the faries into your kipchoot…yet I digress, tis none of these so…little hipgongthorns are sweet, dont you know?

Voulez-voulez-voulez-vous hipgongthorns