Let him be Artalone the Weeps with his parisites peeling off him I’ll be Highfee the Crackasider. Flunkey Footle furloughed foul, writing off his phoney, but Conte Carme makes the melody that mints the money. Ad majorem l.s.d.! Divi gloriam. A … [Read more...]

He was ameising himself hugely at crabround and mary-pose, chasing Floh out of charity and tickling Luse, I hope too, and tackling Bienie, faith, as well, and jucking Vespatilla jukely by the chimiche. Never did Dorsan from Dunshanagan dance it with … [Read more...]

The Ondt, that true and perfect host, a spiter aspinne, was making the greatest spass a body could with his queens lace- swinging for he was spizzing all over him like thingsumanything in formicolation, boundlessly blissfilled in an allallahbath … [Read more...]

Behailed His Gross the Ondt, prostrandvorous upon his dhrone, in his Papylonian babooshkees, smolking a spatial brunt of Hosana cigals, with unshrinkables farfalling from his unthinkables, swarming of himself in his sunnyroom, sated before his … [Read more...]

The Gracehoper who, though blind as batflea, yet knew, not a leetle beetle, his good smetterling of entymology asped niss- unitimost lous nor liceens but promptly tossed himself in the vico, phthin and phthir, on top of his buzzer, tezzily … [Read more...]