🚀 go-pugleaf

Well?  Oh, that's perfid, acute, dazzling, blarneyed, Dr. Haggard, do
you know how to dance?  "I didn't write that" -- dearie me, that's a
good one, not quite in line with the H corpus, closer to an M tone-deaf
reverie in the morning, or so tu m'accuses sich Sich SICH (ach ...
gerne biete ich mir sich an cuz' I'm a sucker for this loveagely woman,
with her maladroit maladies-in-waiting); "no, no, M, not Juniper, M;
remember? I'd proposed marriage, and you..." and it goes on again.
Howdoyoulikeyrblue-eyedlady?  "I didn't write that" -- could you kindly
direct me to that which it was that did?  You seem to have some sort
of deep-seated fantasia with these doctors and computer programmers
and microchip-off-the-ol'-blocks and others all in a row -- perhaps
one or more of they stooped up from the infighting to scrawl it out.
However, it was definitely transpiffied with your eyes, your eyes to
die for ... 'scuse, lost in love for a triple sec ("nightclubbed by
her eyes").

Care, it would seem, has become a four lettrist timbre, tinny, but
with the pungency to clear the room; I'd like to propose a toast;
would anyone care to join me in drinking to H?  Do not be bothered
by yr occasional lapses in precision aptitude math skills -- after
all, it's not like you've entered into a bond whereby it shall have
much greater significance (jellyfish, jellyfish, where for Arthur,
jellyfish -- gonna set your grandma on fire) for your life than the
occasional after-hours coffee-set tricks to wow 'em and get them
disoriented so they appreciate my solemnizing and somnambulizing
amongst them.  Ah, we'll be fine, truly.

I honestly hope and prey that you've sent on that cv which I neglected
to forward but which, for a handful of gold and a cookie recipe, you've
no doubt obtained and spruced; "sod off" would be an inappropriate
thank you, no?  If I get the job, then, well ... otherwise, consigned
to hell and damnation (been a while, that) I shall wassiling go, but
that's ... whatever you say it is.

And, motorcascading twixt rocks and wet places (Station to Station),
understand that, by having promissoried to consign with and accessory
an idiot, you have only strengthened the convenience chain in its
sundry reproducabilitany.  With breathing holes.  I never claimed
more for self-stamped enveloping patterns of noise noise noise
(Damnably affectatious): beware: seeing as how I'm "fired", I may
consider the nexus locatives of sociologist or serial killer.

Ah, not bad, just slightly off pace; 174.5318432184132 wpm, according
to the sound of the tone.  And rest assured, I never, ever would
look at uea in its acrimonious yet fluid state; I have a collection
of trading cards of the full H series (no gum when you buy them en
masse as I chose to), less one; care to guess who she is?

M.

or so she said.