Meringue
Can't you read? Take your duck-eyes elsewhere!!
W*nker.
pancakes
waffles
snasage
floss
dental
beamer
The dance or the pie?[edit | edit source]
For time immemorial, dance or pie was the obvious choice. While porcine ass-grabbers consume clams with abandon, cardboard cat strutted through the machinery, their leavings cast for luck. Vatican scholars had analyzed pi for pies and came up empty. Similarly, minty fresh nonagonal blues players gathered their moss and processed bran at phenomenal rates.
The why and the wherefore[edit | edit source]
Light dawns on Marblehead and dread floss smacks dental towards the beamer. Tommy and Sidney guns akimbo, lard boats came and went inconsequentially. Basking basilisks belch ballads approvingly at the village gazebo that day. The sun was high and so was the mayor. He ducked and weaved through the crowd, exhaling great clouds of smoke like a loco locomotive with motive. Emotive contagion was loosed upon the gathered clowns about the field of sage, sagacious clowning for all to see and some to apperceive.
There was a new loch lock this year, and only the stoned mayor had the key. A representative bonobo made an apologetic speech, covering the fact that he was only sorry for being caught. The bonobo-obsessed crowd of clowns, joined by ducks and minks levitating above the gazebo agreed to live in Colorado in a big clown commune, working together for the common cause of proving we are controlled by either aliens or wizards.