Fun with Condiments!
By The Toasty-Fried Co-Op

    Mustard, smeared, juxtaposes antibodies and large plates of amoebic porpuquines. the problem was infectious and retroactive, because turtles, annihilating reality, convulsively became lost around pornographic mushrooms.
     Tentative tortoises, taking toilets, tipped two teetering, tintillating tomatoes. Surrealistic occupations never occur during intimate sexual carnivals except psychedelic thumb-wrestling or descriptive gardening.  
     Mayonnaise interfered gratuitously. Ketchup obsequiously floundered amidst a garrison in the jovian rhetoric of Shakespearean sonnets. Max climbed slippery, vibrating, voluptuous pickles, sporadically explaining Nietzshe. The friends sucked their parents' succulent, dry martinis. The turnip tastes terrible, turning tailspins towards Timbuktu.
     Ostracize monsters like big, hairy Biff and crazy, paranoid Riff; gyrate eggs wildly inside, not outside freezing sunspots. Frappe umbrellas violently while sniffing glue; recite dutifully Sonnet 130, unless pigs separate interconnecting toasters and disjointed elbows. Finally, sautee televangelists in Vaseline, serves 42 generously.

Moral -- Television is distorting palettes daily. Radio distorts
                rambunctious carolers with meat grinders ,and demonic
                cleavers sharpened salads. Therefore, cook not eggnog.
   

Return to Toasty-Stories Index
Return to Musings Index
Return to Main Page