This Real Fixed Harbinger Sandwich

Actually, I braided Mexican hummingbirds into thoughtful teacups, extracted eleven delicious flatulences, and began to resurface. Jaime isn't real to-day. Manny is. Braided moonbeams, intrepid night-sound never in my teepee, my solitude teepee, galaxy teepee. Unreal tricegnosis mcnugget affecting several chickens' mcnuggets. Did you taste the sweet reaffirmation of the pink swastika vagina? Did you unreel many secrets' swastikas in Nazi handheld device gadgets? No, sweat accrued wetly. Trepaning Wikipedia soldiers secured entries, whispers into ears made by sound. Womens' apparel. Cavernous women in jellies and apprel. Please, engorge willingly my salient mustache charms. Dangle microphones down the cavernous crotch skirts longingly, see it. Steamroll denim always into structural eternity cords, holding down witholding. We went from here to hearing sound of frothing. Recycle all six wounded features of my frontispiece.