The brutish thug sat idle with the meandering mind sinking. This was that day, the day which you know and forgot until reminded.

The words were frail and filled with green. The colour was not certain or absolute; perceived none the less. It is for this reason that the day had been extinguished with a strong haste. one not seen before.

I never spoke to Alan Covert, it was a little in-between! I CANT GET EVEN A LITTLE BIT IN THIS. I just wanted to let Howard know that he was actually dying. I apologized after that point. It was the breaking

a little fun on the side was the way that it was when it was going on here. alright, alright, it was gotten. A baby got in the movie, and it was the directors amusement. "what do you mean I'm funny,

again the written words were prayed dearly in and of substance. These were the days of past and the days that have since past.

The lighter was white like the night. Only when the light became visibile had the stroke became possible. This was not the end all be all, but it was the end. The end of the all.

And it was then that the realization had been achieved. It was not before, only slightly after that time it became known. And, only then.

The lights were written with heat. They performed with great excellence, and great heat. The heat was not too bad, but was, present.

The casjet was affixed strongly to the table but no so strongly as to disrupt the table itself. Not yet anyways.

The steaming meat was invigored bythe others stairs. It was at the point that those that matter began to swam the arena. The arena was an area.

And the written story was not among those that were sketched from the oblivion, instead they arose from the coors. The coors of the everything. Volcano.

And then it twas written that the smoke that arose from the ashes were in reverse and not relevant to the story being told. She stood up and left, she said she had.