Anything, basically, growing on one's head
can channel a bias for an attractive hat.
The seat of Magneto's powers is in this – so not just
primarily in greasy moth hairs.
With a box cutter, the prophet morphs his gown into
a permanent, homy crawl space. His existence seems
to expand, and it is with this expansion that he swaddles
one corn dog after another.
Why? Why waste such a gift?
Follow Google Street View's loud, clunking cement mixers
on your PC. To unwrap the earth's crusts, they needn't travel
underground, thanks to a little trick: the GSV cameras are
placed inside the crusty drums, set at 1 revolution per minute.
Anal bleaching is lonelier. The Aztecs liked to lift their dirt
into the air – they did not keep their stratosphere murky
with optical illusions. Pork responds wheezily to handjobs.
You can hear boogers in a BB gun slide like ferrous marshmallows,
from side to side.
The princess's handmaidens had forgotten her in a
stack of mattresses. She couldn't call for help because
interaction with them in the context of a cube
was not appropriate. I think now the princess looks mild.
The Walking Dead are coming for you because they got tired of
constantly being emotional. I can tell that the moments
between parking lots, when they are permitted to get out
and stretch their limbs, are frustrating to all those crammed
into the Volkswagen. What Tetris has taught us is that
unifying, and melting, and swirling together – and eating
each other – make for sparser entities and/or parts.
Hence the eternal hunger.