Foolyman grappled a watterycan. Sprankling the casserole, he whimpled three waffles. “Now,” said Foolyman, “carefully observe.”
Quicksy he sauteed three scullions. Five frackzied fishlets roiled in the potsy. Urking flimgibberish, Chez Foolyman juicied the choice frought tearful bunions. Appealling delected tatters scintillatingly slump bubbled.
Whompburgers best swimp with beguiled rankly seasoning, so caustily grimbled snozzings erratically unshoveled are wisped fest-whirling in a bowl for ten seconds. Foolyman, zamzooks! With rare dazzle and flare, now he flabberglops two flusterized degurgitating boogbusters! A perfectly yummy deelish ruptured bubblebase!
But what, you might ask, about the whompburger?
Foolyman enriddled and fastily jiggled some patty-packed crobs hautely begriddled. He undiced, sizzled then frizzled. Every elsewhere through the kitsch high odorous unresistabble funbounded. Gums drizzled.
Crumbsy bastings scuttlepated and suddenly flapped in midair! Boom! Servily that Foolyman feted the hipsy party dooflerious. Oh wowser bumjigger!
Lip-smacking good!
Foolyman Stories 