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#142

An odd 
feathery down-
turn of newfound 
dreaded funds         was fortu-
nately worth more than         what the hated Fur-
ry Rotund Honey Dew knew to         be water fronting wooden draft-

y         thunder dogs so worn and dandy that the Candy Man alone 
could run like Daddy         throwing deft redun-
dant forts around as if 
the 14th Door 
had come 
unglued 
revealing nothing but a fairy hut with 20 clown head toadies trending up-

         ward where 
the         Theory Runes are read by nude defrauding dry 
Mad Dorks who author notes defying the very turf 
we've surfed so far today 
and further on into the night that not 
a single sole can say will end up swell in terms of Old Brown Shoe 

              repair.

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