Transition

Transition


Our robotic coal mine canary runs on a solar charged battery. Cheese Kurls have been rising out of the foyer carpet for five days now, and Shibbety the Maid avoids that room. His army-issue canteen is a holy chalice that shines like a green angel in the catacombs. It’s tough when you have three shoulders and a jelly arm. We drink waters out of the radiator when our stomachs wants to boils the boll weevil. A lazy river has no place in Becky’s kindergarten cafeteria, Uncle Ragout! Your dairy barn dress design will win first place for sure, maybe last place if the buttons fall off, and I hope they don’t because everyone here under the stage wants YOU to win. She dropped some collagen in his Cheerio bowl when he reached for the butter hat.


Transition