cowknucks. ’Twas the quadra sent him and he sassed him smartly, tig for tager, strop for stripe, as long as my ownhouse and microbemost cosm when I am thinking most. Fik yew! I’m through. Won. Toe. Adry. You watch my smoke. After poor Jaun the Boast’s last fireless words of silent power, susu gloughu biri- biri gongos, upon the road outside for an animal rurale! I am able to add, a chorale