A purple martin with wounded wing awkwardly flops to the ground. It
lands upon a mauve, felt covered tome bearing the sparkling gold title
"Radical Juxtaposition." An old cajun woman in a Golden Grahams
t-shirt and army fatigues whistles a bastardized version of "Dixie
Chicken." Screaming "Druff packs of spider pueblo!" an incredibly
muscular pope flexes his left trapezius.
John McEnroe VS Wade bathes in a graeco-roman spitoon, casually. I
came on my corduroys. You say what? I came on Mrs. Fetuccini
Alfredo. Particular?
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