The spy satellites are melting, tiny golden droplet-pebbles float down from up above, thank god I packed my air bags this morning, that means I can fly, there’s no telling what would have happened if I leapt off this edge without my beloved air bags in hand. Now it’s time to to smell the the horizon, and tickle the small children, cook them rice while making them laugh, the liquid spy satellite is beaming down a powerful nano-funk, it totally makes me want to twerk it to the beats like I’m Miley’s Virus, and even though the spring hiatus punched me hard in the face and told me it’s time to think long and hard, I mainly think about my lunch or sometimes a bunch of very small tiny little baby kittens, or puppies, and i think there might be some on youtube if you hold on I will check up on that for you in a minute, and now while I can remember, the super special secret thing, I forgot that I didn’t remember I had forgotten it, but I can hear it all now, like a memorandum from the general himself, the unpremeditated response destined to become a mere footnote in the history of velveteen 80’s love songs, and I think, I think I may have accidentally smoked a large quantity of top-shelf bluegrass, but I didn’t mean to do so, the flowers underneath including some of their bi-products emitted such a powerful pine aroma, reminiscent of really awesome top grade blue grass music, I’m a die hard fanboy, ready to pounce, I just can not get enough of that sweet blue grass, but now, with this awkward and unladylike snort I shall sit down plump on the wooden floor, busy pulling blue grass from a gigantic magic top-hat, I must prepare myself, for tonight will bring yet another nifty hat-trick. ————————-> Peaches!
