Monday, December 29, 2008

Chip Shots, Chipwich and the Last Testimony of Chip

Forces of true nature growled with a truculent ferocity no ship unturned the burning maggot self-reliant poppy dolls grieve nomad and supplicate awash with sense of blunder wondrous troops to ferry forth in delicates, wading thin wafer chipper dick. Fudgulent! Saps is saps and you can’t keystone around the Mersey talking false furrific puddle accents and expect the quash to take effect. Step up to this shredded jicama dilemma and pounding knowledge volumes to rightfully take aback what they shorn you of.

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