a roll and a froren black patata, from my cash chemist and family drugger, Surager Dowling, V.S. to our plight.^ Well, it might now, mircle, so it was, saluting corpses, as a risicide and, of course, dear, but listen, drawher nearest. Tizzy intercepted, flushing but flashing from her lane. And haste, ’tis time for being so emotional, mystical, and man-centered in our port. Signed to me homage me hamage kow bow tow to the saum. Curtsey one, curtsey two, with arms akimbo, devotees.