Certain cynical persons gleefully gyrated while political idiots with dreadlocks moon walked simultaneously, complaining cat hairballs littered, yelled, and trickled beyond the steep cliff, sliding toward Outer Control uncontrollably veering away from Easter Island. Ignatious Zipperdorff, philosopher extraordinaire, skeddaled unceremoniously across Greenland, skipping stones and shooting craps with loaded capguns. Meanwhile, they target-practiced, looking hungrily towards Mexico forenchiladas.
When smoke signals, rose bushes, and tortoises were all in vogue, only the finest tortillas could withstand the cheese layered lovingly, hand-made by Calderón, brother of Father Guido Schmidt. Bishop Sarducci Yamamoto- Smith genuflected, awkwardly, embracing the moment,
