A microaggression to the jugular. Random rabid rambling by me, a.k.a. Werwolfe. Games, books, movies and general complaints about the world. Most of it bites. The world, that is. The Den is the blog. Other pages house my attempts at writing fiction.
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Fight'ercraftcoffhers
Flying saucer grounded, eroded, foiled, heated to a boil as decreed by a cup of coffee cop a feels is reels flickering snickering at leet effetes dickering over leery fecundity identified invitation infectious fille-lately latte leisure reseals slave-vector hectored into one sector heaving hims at hims to hymns to indemnity inherent in beans steamed stamped pampered impervious heels to shills ills leavened nine loonies tuned to shack up shackled by haploid billiards rolling hemming hellions' dalliances at dance chances stand glancing rant lancing frat ensconcing scoundrel trouncing singled out lout scouted depreciated cup by cup punctured and tapped sap adapted to tables availed of philanthropical fables of stability led to the stables by the nose ring-a-ding-ding-a-ling ailing in the new saddle whacked beginning of scheming eyes intervening in your thoughts liquid fixed in err cup in half a seat by the park sniff a whiff of recalcitrant re-grated down to a peg snarking marketed disingenuous darkness at saucy dorks flitting digressed of a coffer's caress.
Labels:
lycanthropy
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