.. scattered in two inches of water were receipts dating back to the turn of the century and all detailing purchases of loose leaf binders and pencils totalling several thousand of an unidentified currency and grave rumors hinting at international shipments of goods mentioned to nameless recipients... thought it who once had bored the name that it now could not pronounce save for the faint taste of Pepsodent Tooth Paste lingering in the somewheres of adventures past...
"Hmm!" said Mogfelat; minus scruff. The dust settling around him and Hillary like a glimmer of Ozark sunshine just above the horizon. "Now where's that Ligferrat...
meant she ate Bill's cigar... "Don't you believe me?" she shreiked in a high pitch voice that rolled up out of the abyss of her oral cavity like a runaway train while Mog and Lig inched backwards out of her line of vision only to bump up against...
... we go to The Cleveland Wrecking Yard and see if Troutfishing in America is still around?"
"Ohio?"
"No, it's in the San Fransisco area, you have to take the number 15 bus at Columbus Avenue to get there or, er, you could in 1961... but
some dynamite."
"Oi! What's the dynamite for?"
"If that Bill don't leave us alone we...
but they were no ordinary hills; moles they were, moles in the face of the earth which was a fact the Bushes paid no attention to as they scrambled for protection in direction of the enormous twin caves that were but the openings to the nasal cavities of that face and at whose entrance tall weeds swayed in the stale air and that was their undoing for had they done their allocated homework they might have grasped what was to happen should they enter such a delicate opening but as the Bushes they were they were not aware of that they were little else than nuclear bums as dry and irritating as a fart in the desert and what, but disaster, was ahead of them as they advanced on their fateful destination may not come as a surprise to the public at large save for the sorrowless and utterly optimistic inventor of the mobile road, Mr
magnets and magpies and the script to this whole hollow production they call
you will forever be a hologram!!! ! !!!
-"Ok! Ok! Ok! Won't tell! Cross my heart, Bob Hope and 99 miniature porcelain sea lions!"
-"Ok... Listen closely....................
.... on its own reflection and froze up for a moment before it relaxed and went back to...
and frowned...
"I beg your pardon!!!" it voiced pefreclty...
"SSSHHHit, it's talking..."
Mog and Lig split, scrambled and zoomed off several minutes past tomorrow...
Lig tapped the face of the Mickey Mouse wrist watch and was just about to give up when
wsnt ll bt grbg.
Lig listened listlessly in L-llish aw.
"There's something the matter with this," he thought while Mickey Mouse danced before him blinking in Morse Code
DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT
-. --- - .
Lig frowned and turned crimson. Then he ran back to the previous outpost to fetch his specs (as an excuse) but on the way he bumped into the couple who wasn't there (because of a mutual and complete lack of confidence), therefore so completely losing his directions that he ended up at the site he just had left (without knowing that he hadn't fetched his specs). He took a deep breath and read out loud
Enok ops 4 Spokane
Behind him Old Mr. MacDonald shouted somewhat incoherently, "Hey Enok or whatever name your is! Better you of getting your sorry excuse for a break in the middle of working hours put together fast as a pack that mule up real fast so we can get on with the story!"
"I aint no mule, Mr. MacDonald," said the mule and lifted its tail to
let the next coin be entered into its complex system of
its mysterious insides that some say are the opposite and should therefore