old work boot
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old work boot
"Hrumph!" he thought
when his shorts
rotted out in
the teleporter's controls.
A strange sound
alerted him to
Bruce's cross-teleportational
arrival
(c'mon people of L-S! This is not a private story among Mods! Its interesting how you can steer a
story with only three words)
next Tuesday afternoon
But wait! There's
someone with him!
Not only that
but they're carrying
, beyond all reason,
bright pink parasols
What could they
be thinking! Don't
think pink ink,
unless you intend
to begin again
They produced semen
Greg Edit:
Terry, provocative turn of the story, but does not grammatically follow Bel's entry. I'll restart the
flow...
airtight containers containing
partially fossilized remains
"No! Not Hostess
cried the evil
Knievel, "Anything but
fried spark plugs!