Started on Dec 04, 1999.
Completed on Dec 09, 1999.
She stopped to sniff the Crysanthymammaries and sure she looked down on them, Columbia, for she had grown fat and desirable after chewing off my leg whole at the first sign of rocky terrain and drinking everything put in our glass. It was a simple sand trap.... surrounded by surround sound... waiting for a --GO-- sign. There was a special calling because the tree with a rubber arm thought she had the perfect pitch for singing a cover of Fire that was mixed to echo through fossil forests until the passion permanently scorched the air. I dunno, Frank. I can slide headfirst, and I can hit all day long, but what is which and why the hotseat I'm not sure I'll ever fully comprendo. Fortunately, she said, in a tone of stoney indifference, I don't give a damn what kind of rock it is as long as it collects snow as it rolls down that hill it's gonna get bigger.
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