Girls would be prettier with

Said little bobby his head barely above the tub water.

why is her make up running, that was his mother.

why was his pants down, it was the neighbor.

soup was cold and i wanted to ask the waiter what they thought of the fly dangling on thin strings.

a bicycle rider and his snail wheels.

The foreigners quaked at the soaked whore in high boots she was stuck in the gutter that was his wife.

Battle armor for his widow, she backed away unaware of his back growth hid away fears and a fetish for blind trash bag wearing antlers.

growth named filbert, it was his husband. circus clown part time oval.

Army only slaughters half the bunch rest were left in the desert for the bandits, his toy Indian shot first.

malware reached his artillery first, instead fired turkey liver.

reaching for his drowning fingers. But POW! crash! bang! boom! his fist were flashing hand grenades that squawked lover boy dreams.

murder the young boy said to his passionate criminal mother soaked in semen the stuff in those 25 scent machines, built to force humans to stop the turning grinders, turbines, and vents.

She rinsed her supper and vomited orphans orchestra bunted on the forehead gosh darn mosquitoes cover songs.

said groins.