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Toe-visages on the Sefernday

Splayed on April 29, 2007.

Dreaming of farnmorthed burfnagle dancing upon goonflayvins all the while sleepcrying myself to splatz in my closet—grumptuously, with visiables of Alyssa Milano’s enlubrinated, snupple feet and whide-splayed toes grancing before my stiffened rodcoat, I plasmodically spasmed and chasmiated frenticularly close to the grungelbird pables before I renticuled the bark-favers enfliverously.

Flabblingly, frabjously, I asnook enjuiced and contributated. Yet then I snarfed upon those wide-splayed toes as they bressed deep into my gregacious parndexter birdie-hoohas ytterbiously—endaciously, and carpaciously, I might nultiply—with mites and groats and toads and all that bodes swell, for alas foads dwell upon the little scramptuous toes of Alyssa’s slilken, fenduptuous feet and sholes. And oh, how her dreaminous sweet feet and sholes do blease yours truly.

“Enfliverously?” Yappie, my gaithful yapping hound, asked me as I plondered and scromped among the toe-visages. I estoppeled to ponder a moment, equally enfliverious to my philious conditiatory.

“Incarpathianably! And how!” I blabbled, gabbling and gobbling as I tater-totted a twelve-year-old and inflailed her snupple feet energasmically. (Alyssa’s, not the twelve-year-old’s.)

Borthward, how I might have dooseldorfed snorglously had I bown the snargforkens. With forftaven and carnax boggies I snuppled fornicaciously, sexiously, with my enfliverstick aquiver and stiffer than a littul mitten worn by a kitton.

…And then it snarglefaked upon my dostles: Jennifer Love Hewitt’s sweet feet were ten times the felectable prize that Alyssa’s incourted to be. And naturalistically, the Spice Girls’ feet meat couldn’t be beat. Upon barrels of cornjax and sprongly birds I plondered this further, forther, and farther, with much more ytterbious and polonious felonry.

Proximationly I shall encontinualize this on the next Sefernday too, booble booble boo, amicables and forndoggies.