A Queue For the Loo At Nine Minutes Past Two Ok Then

A queue for the loo? is it nine minutes past two? A windmill dashing to the sea. Ice cold waters in a monticule drip. Laced with the prevalent winds and sands. But sands are not sanding down a landing strip nor are they playing moving pictures in charade style with the creatures of the ocean. To guide a shell back into the waters is to release a fluorescent luminous glow glob of goo that light the way for the many prawns who have gone to the nightclubs of Neptune. Neptune nightclubs can be very riotous and the correct attire must be worn. No tentacles must be seen. So carefully placed seaweeds must be dusted with gold dust from the sea bed then wrapped carefully around heads. Beaded skirts are common place. Fashionable are the hues. Whilst fallen boats release many treasures which are then utilised for shoes, hats and tail coverings. To sit at the high table is to rank. But no tank. And a tank is neither a tailor nor a talon so be careful when passing the salt across the many kilometres of buffet plateaux. It is to be said that a mild day is releasing radios in real-time but mealtimes are best served in storms when the moon is fat. Large laughing lecherous leering lavish linguinis. And a google eyed squid basking in a tree. Origins of one square mile of sea bed are said to be Germanic and upon digging can climb down to caverns which span continents. Acres and acres of mystical realm and space. The many deep fried wide angled fish in suits, ties and ballgowns climb down here at various selected times of the year. Normally colliding with the celestial movements of geese, earwigs and horses. But horse manure could fall on even the most pointiest of cities and civilians who are having a bath at this time will wonder and ponder at the shades of brown falling from the expanse. From out of nowhere and out of beyond from out of field and out of pond there is a prowling growling serpent dog whose hunger knows no satisfaction and whose belly desires gingerbread legs, a castle of marzipan, a washing machine with clothes, a cooker with gravy and a small wooden cat table. It is imperative to watch the arms and legs of such a wild and untameable beast. Foe to throw and throw a foe. And all the while the topiary sings whilst filling in the diary. "la la lima la la loo la la lay and lay la lei". Over and over but not oversized. For that is reserved for large fries, cheeseburgers, steaks and melon breasts for bulls in midnight cruises down highways to late night eating feasts. Wow. Legs. Hahaha stolen goods stealing statutory static stoked stations hahaha west wing winking xxxxx parliamentarians Z z z Z z Z z Z