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In the Hall of the Mountain Vice President

Venture cannibalism buys a modest truck. Links to earth and human remain pictures of a forgone world. This purchased truck signals an escape velocity for those similar to human. They knew Mitt Romney when, when many were the many. Now they peel the effluent onion, they write a heated letter. Grasping the words for diagnosis, venture cannabalists inebriate in common time. A passing fancy for passing fancies occurs in Apple time, on the wings of Nike. Phil meet Steve: impress us. All of which argon acts like diatoms allowing mittens to fly in the wind, frore wind. We must fight for the integrity of saying we fight integrity. Your next clothing store could be your last. Women who eat marshmallows cannot be counted on, say experts in saying. Their men must be a strain, add the experts. A teleology of clocks turns to a calm press pass and sizes the day. It’s Monday, uniquely one of the days we live. The truck stops here and the turnips resume their gravity. Are you impressed by the mountain, Mr Vice President? asks a sentence in someone’s mouth. The modest truck slows economy down.

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