Dog chew uphill. The vomit is pomidorovian-Tyskie mush and the sickly sweetness dissolves the mind.
Faint cries of wolven mishaps lead me into a thicket where the dog rolls as I absent-mindedly tweet.
The rolly is successful and the hose has not worked - the stink remains. The foetid after taste of vomit is removed from Google Images due to complaints. People on the darknet are looking into it.
My chocolate coloured coon moves in the interstices of Sussex graveyard to PC dog.
My darling chocolate coloured cone.
