If it weren’t not me who was a spa3z trubbling peirce ‘un, me tinks eye’d put a silly piece of stick on every ploinking pile of anything in the gaulish occipitally that had soma kinda tingies and tangys on or somewhere around it that made my cognitive efficiencies wibble, in or out of order to muck all the ickly tingies pritter and kangle when they found out, then hide under a brick for a few tears until I sead who flocked to meat me and grobsmack at the griefy happenous stance of what was beogled. This is exactamundo the NASA whey, tater tots.
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