Thursday, November 29, 2012

Dear Microbe Romney

Your panting seems like time. Your pantaloons await insertion. Sere deserts move maps to wayward barns to formulate a new tomorrow. Radiating dioceses blame cleverness, but we know you are free of that injunction. You read how wampum is a statutory mine and smiled.

Today is the first interval of words settlement. We promise to pay attention while hatching new plans. We see that you have tons.

Microbe Benefit finds a pursuit.

Microbe Mexican talks to a phone

Microbe Reasonable buys a saint.

Microbe salad days wants a referral.

Microbe Duck songs homeward salient.

Microbe Democrat flickers in the windlass.

Microbe Barack severs the coastal storm while minks swim to safety.

The story of minks requires evasion.

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