Scintillating scallions of purebred breeding flew low over the lake at eventide. Grasped and hollowed, Sarah forgave the belligerent sufferers along the bleak night of total destruction in the garden of saintsberry bushes and cholia foreseen.
Alas, the buddenbrook babbled by a little too slowly for her liking, so she leapt in up to her waist and helped things along. Pet marmots were all the rage a year ago, but now they gather in riots of laughter and pillage the likeliest town in the valley. Hopscotch would be more suitable for their riots, but Aunt Josephine forgot where she left her car keys, so the marmots walked all the way to Sarah’s capitol with torches and pitchforks and toothpicks, but the capitol building was closed for repairs.
Sarah served her severed scintillating scallions to Aunt Josephine anyway and pieces rained on the likeliest valley for thirteen days.
Originally published December 31, 2023
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