Except when the filter, against all odds, gives Ginger fits of frivolous fountains, unplumbed by beasts or magic.
Ginger told George what she thought of the paleolithic. George didn’t hear her clearly and said the monolithic was the age of the great ones. Ginger said but the neolithic. George said I heard you the first time, and you can keep your polylithic jeans and fabulous hats. Ginger knew what George meant, so she entered the realm of possibilities and resisted the pull of anything actual, actuating actually being foreign to Ginger’s constitution, ratified by thirty years of service and fifty years of breath. The monolithic tree in the backyard beckoned to George, so he left Ginger to her realm of the possible and transported himself to the land of the impossible.
Ginger looked into the empty llama and saw it was full of faithful wildebeests, but only the magicians heard her, which was enough for them and the unplumbed llamas.
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We don’t use actuating nearly enough anymore; like contraption (as a verb).
Contraptionating is my favorite word!
👍
This blog is gloriously bonkers!! Thank you for liking my post otherwise I would never have found this crazy place – beautiful work!
Thank you! It’s a lot of fun! 🤩
Thank you. I love your site.
Judy kelly from Love a Good Story
Thank you for the visit. 🙂