30.September.18


I, Jack, was giving a rodomantade about the most endearing characteristics of lanterns when a pumpkin crossed my path. The interloper was given a situation on which to chew: bite me oppositely, in other words: me bite. Perhaps, pump’s kin would have lived to a riper age had it not been so Gadarene in its pursue to chew before it knew what such word meant. Now, before empathy is given to the gored gourd, remember that after I, Jack, am lit, enthalpy may reach the degree at which both I and witch melt, leaving hollow, *possibly* haloed souls, I ween. ; )

Categories: Melange

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