Let's tell a story... two words at a time II (in full)

Started by Veluux, May 19, 2012, 08:56:55 PM

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KaraKres

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink

Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across.

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


KaraKres

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers

Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor. Even some
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


KaraKres

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


KaraKres

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number

Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies.

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Lady Kalypso

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "

KaraKres

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth!

Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can it be?"

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can it be?"

Suddenly, a
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can it be?"

Suddenly, a giant bird

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can it be?"

Suddenly, a giant bird with wings
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade


Kaia

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can it be?"

Suddenly, a giant bird with wings swooped down.

~ Who cares what and who we are as long as we no longer break ~


Endorphin

And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.

"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"

At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."

Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.

When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox, the wandering cat sniffed a passing pair of marching guards, their smelly overcoats stuffed to overflowing with onions. Overwhelmed by odors most dreadful and likely quite erotic but worrisome, he looked left then right, then picked up a soggy yet fully formed cheeseburger.  Spinning on heel mounted springs tightly coiled, but well primed for action at any sign sweat dripping would be certain death as the priests approached wielding dildo's studded with chilly peppers dripping hot ready for the next church picnic.

Little humming Dwarves rolled over the Scone of Scotland only if thrice fooled such.  Meanwhile, a beautiful woman removes her gloves slowly and clicks her pen to the beat of Vanilla Ice while she looks pensively at the red bulbs on the ceiling of the bedroom, which barely saw any use except for the nights of endless pleasure. It was something craved by many experts on artificial stimulants, yet not many of the dancing bears that were depressed.

The last man standing at the podium of the great raccoon city delivered such poignant words that the stormtroopers hailed him as the storyteller who had saved the entire colony from the worst fate that could ever befall their generation. Thousands of demonic hairdryers turned on when he cried rivers of tears.

Later legions of demons spawned from the black, dark centre of the city. The streets ran amok with the sounds of merriment and raucous laughter as the king of the jesters danced.  With open arms the zombies spewed forth across the parade ground, destroying everything coloured pink that they came across. It was the most impressive show of demon zombies that had danced away with flowers meant for the mayor.  Even some giants were amazed by the number of zombies. They yelled out loud, "Oh forsooth! How can it be?"

Suddenly, a giant bird with wings swooped down. It's talons
"The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?" - Marquis de Sade