Koach Bonbays pitiful anger ship was blasting it's way through his jaunty demeanor.
"These sets were to last me half a moon. The not men were to bat and flail their eye sticks gingerly as i passed in the great hall!" No one was fooled by his anger. Shorts sets kame in packs of several, and alwwways did the wofolk stare. Well, more like get doughy.
Koach Bonbay was always at the top. Always. Top of stairs, tops trading cards, top ic of sex hunts. It was the sets. What with the flagrant layering and thoughsand island dressing, it's no wonder he killed himself. If you could go back to Latter day, you'd see Koach in all his cream filled shavings. Kream for the wolady's and filled shavings for the kids.
Koach loved the kids. So did his sets. The one today went to this tune::: Maroon, then Drunked grey under, and Office burlap hiding beneath.
Then Goldberg showed up in the middle of the twilight, naked as so many docile animals, kissing the seeds that Jerald had sewn on his bed seconds before. Everyone flew into a hysterical fit of hope as Goldberg's stomach flew out of the back of his head.
He had smooched on the seeds that came from thoughts of sigourney weaver.
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