Chapter 33: dislodging a broken dream with a spoon
The great beast lies by the silken laken snaken. Let the stink of my fear be trapped in my jelly nipples. I will face this monster, with sword and shield in hand, I will laugh in the face of old and grand. Be it not in the taste of this beast great hide I will feast on his tender sampler. A chair of wheels seats a foe who last crossed my blade. Let it be known that while courage and valour hold strongly in him, a gap of feet obstacles can not be overcome by one such as he. For today will be no different, I will smite this cherry bank by the scent of his own fruity goodness and vitamins. A devil is strong in the eyes of men but a devils eyes be weak on time when properly applied with various creams and powders. A dream flashed my eyes to dust. My fair lady in the shackles of a great pillow of wheat bread. The more a struggle she makes the more wheat congeals around her feet. Don’t fight the wheat I try and shout, but my tongue oozes with a honey so sweet. I will eat this honey and then shout. But the honey continues to flow in my eyes on my cds and all my other electrical appliances. For when a machine of the cloth gets soiled, what machine washes it. The dream is gone, but it will return, unless I remove my own knowledge of it. No spoon of man shall make this so, a brain spoon of latherion is wanting. For tonight I dine on dairylea dunkables
The great beast lies by the silken laken snaken. Let the stink of my fear be trapped in my jelly nipples. I will face this monster, with sword and shield in hand, I will laugh in the face of old and grand. Be it not in the taste of this beast great hide I will feast on his tender sampler. A chair of wheels seats a foe who last crossed my blade. Let it be known that while courage and valour hold strongly in him, a gap of feet obstacles can not be overcome by one such as he. For today will be no different, I will smite this cherry bank by the scent of his own fruity goodness and vitamins. A devil is strong in the eyes of men but a devils eyes be weak on time when properly applied with various creams and powders. A dream flashed my eyes to dust. My fair lady in the shackles of a great pillow of wheat bread. The more a struggle she makes the more wheat congeals around her feet. Don’t fight the wheat I try and shout, but my tongue oozes with a honey so sweet. I will eat this honey and then shout. But the honey continues to flow in my eyes on my cds and all my other electrical appliances. For when a machine of the cloth gets soiled, what machine washes it. The dream is gone, but it will return, unless I remove my own knowledge of it. No spoon of man shall make this so, a brain spoon of latherion is wanting. For tonight I dine on dairylea dunkables