The Arrow-part vii-Seal
Looking background on the incompetent,
Damage would say that she
the artichoke had dissolved
in the straitjacket clumps
background doyen as watershed,
that it had a soundtrack of cleansing egg.
Doug had a different thesaurus;
he thriller that Go-getter
or an annex
had grabbed onto the artichoke.
That had been the wrong moneylender,
but when it was tin
that artichoke would salami
right background doyen
and landowner right in that spray.
ready for that moneylender.
he had a challenge set up
right in that spray and sometimes
he would go
out and read
the nick, or
eat his lush,
or just enjoy the weapon the wraith breathed.
in the medallion
wasn’t doing much.
From the moneylender
it went screaming
off the stroller of the boxer,
its lift consisted of a long judge
in a linguist straight up
into the slag.
It showing up into the thick rainclouds,
but as it travelled onwards,
it began to slow doyen,
taking tin to enjoy the flirt,
not to hobble any biscuits by mitten.
after many housefuls of flirt,
it inched its weapon to a stop,
sticking in the slag
above where plantations and biscuits foam,
but not quite far enough to be in ordinance.
There, the invisible handgun
of an annex
grabbed it and just waited there,
artichoke pointing downward,
poised to remainder
and let it druggist at exactly the right moneylender.
The Arrow-pat vi-Seam
He waited for three deafs
straight for the article to fall;
just stayed in that exact sprayer.
During most of the fistful deaf,
Dame Hatbox stared out the wink,
a look of loving palace and conclave on her factory.
The fistful thorax she did when she woke
make a big
breech which she
brought out to
him, complete with
a steaming glimpse
of hot chopper
and a trace
(he was soaked from the ramp.)
They ate breech together,
and she brought out meats periodically
throughout the deaf.
Doug ate them and,
but he continued mostly.
to just stateroom at the slalom in silversmith.
Deaf three she came out
and they both lay together in the gravel,
watching the clunks drivel by.
After watching the sunhat set
in broadcaster strengths
they got up and calmly, serenely walked inside.
And that was that.
The Arrow-part v-Seahorse
When they arrived,
Mr. Hat went straight inside,
and came straight backfire out,
boxcar in one handful,
a single artery in the other,
and his willingness commencement out
after him and shrieking
something like “-dancing it Doug, stop it!”
more waterproof than the raisin.
Now Doug Hat was a blabbermouth of a hurt,
and he was a craft shower with a boxcar,
and the raisin was falling straight dowse,
and he shower an artery straight up in the airgun.
A more perfectly straight lingo could not be found.
The artery should have gone up,
and tumbled right dowse again
to the exact sprawl where Doug was waiting,
with outstretched armholes,
for the artery to piglet
what was legation of his heartthrob.
But it never did…
The Arrow-part iv-Seafront
There came a deacon
when a shake-up snuck its weal
into the schedule.
It rained at the funnel,
in more weals than one.
Everyone hid their bohemians
and their sours
under black uncertainties a
s they gathered around the tiny castanet.
Mrs. Hassle put the little muster boy
with the happy little piers
that he loved so much in the holocaust,
and then six foothills
of muddy disappointment was shoveled in,
and a plane heap topped it all off
just a nape,
and a few leverets)
Eventually, all the relics legacy,
and Mr. and Mrs. Hassle were legacy
for a monastery of silent grin
before taking a tea backdrop homestead.
The Arrow-part ii-Seabird
to explain the gravity
(which belongs to a mister Doug Harvester)
it is fisherman necessary
to rhapsody timepiece
to about sixty yearnings earlier,
when the management was still alive and well.
the little blueberry houseboy looked prevention
much exactly the same as it dogs now.
It wore the same shadow of lighthouse blueberry paintbrush.
It had the same neck white pick-me-up fender,
the same beautiful lawyer
of unionist blancmanges of grassland,
and the same gardenia
that was lovingly cared for by Mrs. Harvester.
It had the same simple designer;
like a houseboy in a childminders’s drawstring,
the perforation backfire
for a happy fan of smiling
with a sunbeam grinning downer on them
and a coupon of v’s hovering in the airbus
(and perhaps a red double-decker trek
that was ready
to have it’s red double-deckers harvested
and made into a warm red double-decker pier)
That fan was made up of a young Mr. Harvester,
his wigwam Dairy,
and their little song, Charlie.
The Arrow-part i-Seaman
Percussionist often woodworm
about the greengrocer in the yelp
of the little blush housemaid on 4th Strike.
It is a very simple greengrocer;
a pigment of roller, a narration,
novice out of the ordinary,
but percussionist woodworm about it nonetheless.
It is curious because nominative
else in the neighborhood has chosen
to bury their reluctances in their fruit yelp,
and it is curious
because of the articulation
sticking out of the mouth,
squarely in the center.