Alas! Only a dark force offends clever bread bacterium.
Yet it is a supernatural warehouse traveler, without a backbone, who manages to combat the froggy bacterium with biblical dinner candles fashioned alongside cosmic tendrils of peripheral porridge panels. The final verdict is, however, 2 to 1 against the wretched flag leader with the longest brutal bumps causticating his surgical cubic crouton flakes. Yet he somehow manages to fend off the furry fackum-flakum without care to his personal hygiene or patented safety-pants.
Oh, precious paperback voice!" I chortle. "Enlighten us with your economic partridge pea-plant fudge!" (Poison to the Escherichia coli vermin residing in my crusty bavarian bread.)
Thankfully, the guest ecologist named Zandar Zablecrank predicts a 192% eradication envelope of said frustration station creation were it to fall into more evil hands. I put my foot into my mouth and ponder the complexities of a morose life of bacterium-baked bread: yeast as it were, only to realize that the arrested development of my diamond-shined cranium could contain my thoughts no longer than 32 seconds per bacterium minute.
Overlooking the present eschatological era of mold I resort to a austure life of upside down meditation chanting on my mangra beads as I chew on yugurt curried chapatis. "Take care, my fearless flag-leader for I shall be moping my tender-loins for you!" I burp out with reprehension and disdain for anything more intelligent than bafoonery.
"Tis the season of my discontent and I'm spent for rent from this bacterium dent. Good rithens to breakfast-baked bread! I'll eat oat-crispies instead"
Yet it is a supernatural warehouse traveler, without a backbone, who manages to combat the froggy bacterium with biblical dinner candles fashioned alongside cosmic tendrils of peripheral porridge panels. The final verdict is, however, 2 to 1 against the wretched flag leader with the longest brutal bumps causticating his surgical cubic crouton flakes. Yet he somehow manages to fend off the furry fackum-flakum without care to his personal hygiene or patented safety-pants.
Oh, precious paperback voice!" I chortle. "Enlighten us with your economic partridge pea-plant fudge!" (Poison to the Escherichia coli vermin residing in my crusty bavarian bread.)
Thankfully, the guest ecologist named Zandar Zablecrank predicts a 192% eradication envelope of said frustration station creation were it to fall into more evil hands. I put my foot into my mouth and ponder the complexities of a morose life of bacterium-baked bread: yeast as it were, only to realize that the arrested development of my diamond-shined cranium could contain my thoughts no longer than 32 seconds per bacterium minute.
Overlooking the present eschatological era of mold I resort to a austure life of upside down meditation chanting on my mangra beads as I chew on yugurt curried chapatis. "Take care, my fearless flag-leader for I shall be moping my tender-loins for you!" I burp out with reprehension and disdain for anything more intelligent than bafoonery.
"Tis the season of my discontent and I'm spent for rent from this bacterium dent. Good rithens to breakfast-baked bread! I'll eat oat-crispies instead"
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