There is not an ass in nine as frightening as Stub Born, the short tailed leader of the gigantic mules who advanced on me, with each pearly of his looking like my own personal doomstone.
The deuce x mackinaw turned out to be a humongous carrot lowered on the end of construction rig.
Professor Gobbler was at the controls.
The old bird climbed down off the crane and shook my hand with veined bone hammy.
The nosy nasty had been the sinus advisor to Black Art during Witch War II.
He was the evil meanness behind “The Boys From Brass Hill”, who attempted to clone Gallivant Crook, Horst Fie and Billy Mudd from lint found in the pockets of their uniforms on display at the Marytime Museum.
There had been a midnight torch parade by the not so peasants over that.