1942-xx-xx (xx) Lodge Speech Rehearsal

Well, sir, it's late afternoon as we enter the small house halfway up in the next block now. And here in the living room we find Mr. Victor Gork and his son, Mr. Rush Cook. The gentlemen are standing between the bookcase and the library table, and something about their demeanor suggests something of a solemn nature goes on.

Listen. Okay, really good staff. You are a bubbly, quickly broken wing. You come rad, you are a seminary? We believe, when the women outside the castle gates tear their hairy naggy. The gold fish starts in the pashy pool, and the notten rose buds perfume the ambient air.

Skye, where the good stuff screams like a wounded head day. How much? Funny stuff. You really want through there. I'd like to go over a ten, and they can laugh pretty quick. You've been paying ten cents for your time, and you've only been here about fifteen minutes.

I feel like I've been here two hours. Just relax. I'll dismiss you in due season. What do you mean by the first fight of my speech again? I was a little rocky in the spot.

Hey, brother, good stuff. Grouver and wide. What do I say about the funny stuff? I didn't think you'd be careful. You straighten up and quit the horse play. And quit fishing in and around. You're an act in the role of a man who is being expelled from the lodge.

You're supposed to be upset and brief-stricken. And I suggest you wipe that silly smirk out in your face. You're gonna stop gravel and wine. The stark tears furrow your cheeks, and your pousy hand trembles with the sorrow you have run upon yourself.