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ayockious_idderedd
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Ayockious Idderedd: Event of Champs Keep your eyes on the abode, puppet guy. Socks and socks and socks and socks in a big foot fest. That is courageous. Thus in the middle ages, a bison was considered more-or-less, a trophy, a rose, and a mirror. They had swords and armor, some made bread. (The festivals in your arms are ultra-fly to the whammy and i give you bulbs and rocks. When there are sheets your breath is contagious.) That damn log they dragged is bugged and crittered like the rest of them. Very nice smear that is, one by one, of gnats on the arm, now dead. Stick a leg into the icy monument, now try that again, into the cauldrons of famous stocks conceived by a Russian chef, Kiefer Sutherland and Zeus. Qualifying a mistake, he tucked in his shirt and entered. There were pomegranate displays, dead reindeers with beer and when the smoke cleared, he saw nothing but red. The Organizer paused, and committed himself to the awry nature of his habitat. The parade muffed around like lox in the hands of a nervous hunter spotting a moose and feeling his rifle stuck up his ass, off-centered. Everyone that was alive that day, grabbed necks to steer themselves back into the abyss, and, for sure, to save tread.
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