Apron

I was wondering, how do you tie your shoes while your brain blasts off in a rocket to outer space? Beautiful clothes wrap bountiful s’mores in tender reality shows. Cookie monstrosities fill puny psycho babble in wheelies. Follow fists to angel whispers. Apron clashes bill geographic mail ticket weld tans.

Yuck

Do the do. Don’t go near there. Stay away from there. Read a lie to the teacher. Go to the polls. Vote. Future mailings have susceptible cooking bell phones. Green jello jam sessions come to Neanderthal happy links. Winking rain tents close Jamaican bobsled teams. Frankly, my youthful boating slivers catch refused liver railroad honey maggots. Hello, why are you hatching cockroaches in the yearbook rally races on the talent album egg fu yung. Yuck.

Rang

Wrestle warmth in book bindings, withered by tortured time. Meaningful wading bucolic hunters weaving songs of super sonic silence. Trains leave the dock in search of ankle biters to pilot them. Zookeepers render pipes cackling in humorous helium hell raisers asunder. Quelled by negligent bananas, I rang.

Queasy

Cucumber sandwiches cook chickens in crock pot tennis shoes. Look! The record-breaking umpire swats value pins in stretch limo monster trucks! Weeping Williams wonder why if only inert onerous leaf blowers. Realize I have no conundrums for salad bar provincialism. Queasy millenniums rotate renderings inside rewinding lead walkers.