Booger Blister begged Cooter for a drag on his Amsterdam shag. Booger Blister's crusty beard parted ways like the Red Sea on Judgment Day as he imbibed the hand-rolled cigarette, right eye closed, shut tight like an Ironwood burl, left eye wide open, Wotan hanging from the World Tree, glimpsing wisdom from Starfire jewel blazing forth, inside Amber chalice, the God of Thunder echoing down a succession of cloud-wracked ridges, each fainter and more obscured in Tribulation mists, lumbering northwards to the Great Sea.
St. John the Revelator, Sixty-Six GTO, smoked hawg leg, scenic kudzu highways, she dropped a dime to CPS, Thanksgiving turkey teeming with germs and emotional context, clawhammer gack picked bourbon fifths and fourths, narrative mmph scuttled, mucous mouth, homeless hoarder stash syringed from sidewalk well breached the right turn lane. Flummoxed pontoons meandered on Bigfoot Bay, bass played out.
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