A Puny Boy with a Slow Eye

A puny boy with a Leporidae-lip and a slow eye told the man in the hat that he saw a man who saw a man with a Pope’s hat smoking harryun. When the man in the hat asked the puny boy what harryun was, he replied, his slow eye slowing even more ‘da brawn shit that kidney looks like crushed up beach pebbles’. ‘Oh’ said the man in the hat ‘oh indeed’. The puny harelipped boy with the slow eye yawned, the back of his throat red as red can be, and said ‘beach pebbles, thebe some good shit, you figyour?’ ‘Yes indeed, good shit indeed’ said the man in the hat slowly, his hatband tightening round his forehead madly. The sun cast a second shadow on the sideways, a blistering pocking sound issuing from the storefront window in front of the Seder grocers. Though the sky hazarded rain, the man in the hat ignored the second shadow and wearied his way across the sideways sideling. The puny boy with the jackolopes-lip hip-heptode it down the sideways, crisscrossing the grassy medium like a grasshopper with a second set of wings.

The legless man lives a cloistered ascetic life, jiggering about on his pegboard cart, waging and caroming in and out of traffic and so. Grindstone grinding, his few remaining teeth cutting crosshatchings into the bevel of his ear joist. The plotline’s in the pudding, roiled orts with creamery cream and a slurry of sanguine blood orange…(risk of a tundra storm, fifty % chancellery of bowers)…He slept on top of the bleatline, clouting sheep with a weary eye on the potted punter swaging swung over his bedstead unsteadily so. Gad souks, a carrion carryall swaging above my head overhead…(blessed be the beastly beast)…It rained upside down, sheets of cold febrile cold rain, a snuff to send a eggnostic into a downward spiral. I’d say he would I would. A cat catapulted into the sky, its furry wet tail feathered with cold febrile cold rainy rain. I’ve seen odder tangs, thought the legless man, odder and wetter.