A sad rudimentary genius counted his teeth in a pocket mirror. Looking for god (eagle man?) the flock quite naturally befouled the birth and all was mayhem. Taking the birds for their haircut in a generic mood he was unavoidably distraught and carrying an item for dozing assassins spilt milk, he made his way to the cathedral where he was met by the crimsoning virgin of obesity wearing a frock and dropping an animal to pieces. The nervous professor, who waited in an odor, discussed this the night previous with an Adam or some other man of no great consequence. Rope to rope this beastly Adam, or some such, swung and no one was embarrassed but the music suffered greatly to no fanfare as a bottle with no substance to squeal of grinned in disgusting pleasure. The wife of this (or a) foul creature gave a shiny knife and felt up dirt in a closet being timed by his mysterious Adam. This did not correspond with any calendar. The two cynics deconstructed her comprehension of quality without precision or insight and later consoled themselves by decorating their failure in lights. The wonderfully illuminated failure became all too wonderful for comment or memory and was forgotten while sinking along a sandy shore. This was never documented because the wild paper, in its youthful rebellion, refused to cooperate and would not submit even to threats of being used to wrap a gift. The virgin of obesity spanked the bleeding nostril most often connected to the face of persons mending prisms torn asunder as "this is all we have to remember us by?" was heard in ringing bells above St. Manuplex's graveyard of fruits.

More stories...