Grabby Lunch

"Of what honor do the Gods parlay Fresh Water's diumche?", said the Master.

Of the hour of six past eighteen minutes, I knew the dungun, would, suffer substation. Falay, the time it takes to see the sky past noon. I know of a dame. A Girl! A Boy! What was the message, "Eighty meters round the clouds". "Nine's smith?"

"A Smooth Relaxer?"

"Yes, scheduled for four pm."

"dausch no thermal. Silk press."

For the midnight hour trave not came. Lord Meowra...lost kitty. Rolashe. Dinner with a curly sandbell. No time for work, she husk attendance por navy gravel. Yet Amerie knows boundless Asian cuisine makes the bell tip toward luck!.

Merry Saturday!

XoXoXo,

Kharese

Charese Cochran

Lord Meowra