Story Go Round 06/29/2002, round 3, #3


Meticulously masticating his fried ruminant flesh, metabolizing the enzymatic diglycerides with altruistic jubilance, he ambulated amidst convoluted vegetation. But it gave him no comfort. Short words would have to do. Ok. On no ohs is ox so he took the way to Sesquipedalianville. Overcomplicating verbiage resumed issuing forth. Obstreperously, narcoleptic bipeds demonstrated logorrhea, as octogenarianated ungulates undulated a propos to entrepreneurship cross-genetically infiltrated within their viscera-laden esophagi. Friskily, he ambulated and undulated emphatically, peremptorily placating the vacuous omnivores while bifurcating billiously beneath beautific morphemes, sasquatchilumptuneoustrigonomastific-ramptugecaptisticfitfully asking for a glass of water. But it gave him no comfort. Feeding his cat a tonic water he phoned Ettically Spelled Outloud her feline pseudonyms spastically elongated from "meow" to "meeooww" to "mmeeeeEEEOOooOoowwWWwww." Chomping cat flesh gives you gas, gas, gas.

Amber is purple; John is pink; Alan is blue; Terry is orange