Into the Yard

Twenty two snails were dancing in a line, for they had consumed some wine, the wine had been left by humans in the yard, the glasses full, no breaks, no shards. Safely pulling themselves up the stems. Then suckling up the infusions like a worm in a puddle. The dance went on till the yard was cleared. And several moving mammoths came to eat burgers with beer. Then a thunder storm arrived. Meaning the snails must be helped to survive. The little people ran out from the trees and placed the molluscs upon their leaves. And so it was done. Meanwhile on a river bank an acrobatic eel was entertaining a shoal of rainbow trout. The eel was so proficient at leaping he could leap from one side of the river to the other and avoid all branches along the way. The fish they clapped their fins in delight and the shoe continued into the night. The owls cheered them on as they passed to catch their tea. And all of this was watched on a shell by the whales on the depths of the oceans. Great. Mystified mice making musical mayhem. Mr platypus sat playing his opera rather loudly in his car. The cat chauffer sank over sixty litres of wine whilst waiting in the heavy traffic. And back at the mansion the ninety thousand three hundred and forty two eggs were being peeled, baked and prepared for the bull baron who was due at half past two for a banqueting bullion bake. The gardener stood on top of his rake and zoomed over to the private two thousand acre lake. Great. Pickle no pantry and tickle no tackle in a weather alternative angling competition in a west wing. Bestow no toast residue to a floor whose antics of the present can really only open a library. Ok then. Whirlpools waiting writing wordy woes. Hahaha snakes shaping salads hahaha fork in a tree argues with the spoon shaped birds. Xxxxxx miscellaneous z z z z z