--- Tsarina Katarina, fetch the tuning fork for Clover’s twittering machine. From where I transcend as this manger’s manager, a proper script morphs twins as badgered duplicate, batty cinemaddicts, prickling neckbraces. Speaking insectually, freckly Shawnique may borrow your legs and you her arms, drawing upon truncated centipede haunting walls that encircle the garden that belongs to the vicar of vicariousness.
--- Ya, ya. Truly trivial, but trivially true, too.
--- Please step forward. C’mere! C’mon. Feel right at home.
--- Thanks, but my trusty rifle’s a trifle rusty. Thump desire. Sunshine, so tickled when Hapsburg snow melted. Shy eyes lie. Ree and Tomas bow their heads, now braver than any war world apart. Kiss bonded, mind and heart weaving silken shrapnel.
--- Attendez! Close your yap! Show some respect! Through corridors fire ants wriggle and sashay through the U.S. of A., a story line that hammers vital organs into teasing shrugs after the annunciatory blue angel smoke releases. Far behind the braided ropes please linger.
- Charles H. Lynch