Tales

A large bowl, a portion of meat, and a six foot ladle were out one day on a country walk. Playing with pebbles on a distant shore were the radiant seahorses. Dressed in hoop skirts. No time to sunbathe. No time to create sand castles and a wave is neither a weave or a web. A crashing sound is not a tinkle of bells. So be very careful when standing on stepping stones for one might fall into a crevasse. The bowl decided to carry the meat but the meat became afraid. For it had heard of marinading. And the consequence of which was to be baked at obscene temperatures in ovens or over fires. However the tall sprightly spoon gathered it's armour. And informed the meat to nit worry. The bowl smiled. It was nit to be too long before they reached the camp by the sea. And the entertainment industry of the seahorses at dusk was quite unlike anything ever witnesses. So trudging on through the headline woods, passing many faunas' fake fictions. And many a grinning pixie dancing in a toadstool ring. Lit the way through the dense and often dark woods. Sky was shy so did not appear until the clearing. From here they could see the sea shore and the ever increasing gathering of the entertainment. Wow they thought. That is a fine sight. Let us rest then we will go downhill to the sands. The laughing leaves dropped berries for the avid travellers which were received gratefully. Fashioned fashionably fabled forking fathoming feathers framed. And a single word is used by an individual dust. Good. The evening show was a s expected. Remarkable beautiful display. And as the sun dimmed and the moon shone. The intrepid travellers dug sand dwellings and lay down to rest in the breeze of the oceanic scene. Bless not a pickled pineapple then. Reach. Rave. Radius. Rigid. Righteous. Rights. Rightly. *** done. Creationism z