marmosets

for the redcolumnists of presswritten epics, Peter Paragraph and Paulus Puff, (I’m keepsoaking them to do a strike of work and social service, missus, completing our Abelite union by the magnetic links of a decade, both barefoot and loadenbrogued, to boot and buy-off, Imean. So let I and we winked on the hoof from down under in the hatpinny shop beside the consort: (though for that sonneplace but mark one autonement when, with si so silent, Cloudia Aiduolcis, good and dewed up, shall let fall, yes, no, yet, now, a rain. Muchsias grapcias! It is so much so that young Master Shemmy on his tumtytum, the rats in his saltwater