(xx) The Room Warming

I'll again with radio, phone, phone, they can fade written by Paul Lein. John DeWine's game, what's the sound of? Well, I'm from German, obviously. The brickmash don't affect me, it's not the case. Me neither.

What's the name, actually? You all need to be expected to make it pretty yourself. Okay. Just tell yourself, who's frightened that? I didn't need to go in there. Who was glad you ever saw in your eyes?

Paul Britman, some respectment. It'll be awful pretty, Britman. This much man's worked out lots of different colors for his big life. And it's essentially named Austin. He's nice little off-appacock, burnt silver, blonde, grey, not familiar with this.

So cool, we're really cool. How do you like to have a big chunk of coal? This nice little bit. I don't know about a ton of the half of coal, blind, grey, but this is.

Small people, green dogs, blue, it's maroon, daffodile, fly. What? He said to their slide. That could be a black hair. I think it's kind of smart or, you know, circles and different colored hunks that bring my teeth to things, don't they, Ma'am?

Oh, sure. So this is the flavor. For certain reason, but my grind hole is to tell whether they had screaming rocks with big masters, basement allers with my... You got fun for this, Ma'am. Ma'am.

Then your face was... Oh, Ma'am. And here's my thought, Chigel. Uh-huh. I'm telling you we can suffer around 545 or 6 or so. Right after supper, why don't I be the victim and sex dump collector's, the Maier's fine, deputy, choked on a slab of graveyard gray brick marsh, and then joined my cell, Mike B.