Conjuring images across space and time in separate monkey simulators, these rambunctious lumbering bacteriophage theorists mumble and shudder at rumbling thunder suddenly punctuating underlying undulation with undue comparisons to some of the wary ones glaringly biased against therapy clients preparing numerous kinds of ludicrous librarians for triumph wherever they find it.
Lines are crossed in star-scraped tar basins aiming adventurers far from the center of our little centipede. Are we demented as our dreams when flying off to handle flying off the handle while atomic manhole cross-country Rambo operations can't hold a candle? Damn, you'll render rancid effluence feigned as eloquence as if futility is your tender mistress.
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