🚀 go-pugleaf

Dearest Cecil,

New: the H760 Guided Tours of HELL ("epiphenomenonalism" should have
been "epiphenomenalism"; that and "banananana" I always muck up: oh
dear) & the Great Loch Gridlocks: tunnel the Enemy mine mine mine in
attemptation at residelining lost-&-profoundly inside of a "best
interest" (NOW you've grasped the concept, YES!), and seek what is well
hidden in puzzle-box amissives (ask him why he is the [words fail writer
at this point] he is and Just Hear The Disapproving Silence), so much
obligatewayed to derelicits "derivative from the square 1 but
incandescent": painstake it as read that I am neither unthankful nor
untranceful.  Cop well, "sweetie pie, lambykins": "redraw the assignment,
and I most certainly shall try to fulfil my partake": mostly unredrawn-&
-quartered and yet fulfilled to the brimstone ("why didn't you marry me
one thousand (1000) years ago?", was, as you probably properly discerned,
a trick question, since in (s)in(e)curably diseased clues it would appear
deeply evidented that, in fact (or fiction), you did.

Stay and I'll speak to you of the trials of breakfasting when everything
is, as it has always been, a knight in shining saucepan-lids and the
milk-"jug go boom-boom" on (queue) cue: possible experiment (cf. "fun"):
smash plate, bend spoon, rip carton, then login and fathom if oft in the
distillery night (long dazed journey into...) he livestibules the halls
of purple proses-are-red, violations are true, sugar is cheep cheep
cheep, so Where Are You? -- pardon, pardon, mea hada run-on phase (th)ere
I repent(rammel)ed.  And, as you say, you're the plainsong groove-stuck in
my head.  Never any doubt about that, in yr laudacious aspiracy to dj of
the month, playing late-night requests or tranquil shipping forecast-iron
alibis for the Holy Grailments of the Devotiose and yr little screaming
friend in Paris, whom I'd gladvene to out-shout (of kilter, even) in
brackettle-whistles of pure [mild affection, adoration, y'*do* know &
y'know y'do], eg. {H such that B} [anything at all] {i-e-o-u <The Case
of The Missing Vowel>}, or so, it is said, she said, and she's buying
a Stairway To Heaven @wherever it may be found.

To what tune should I sing that song?

Hugs & kisses
	from yr
	     Great Aunt Ethelfreda