(xx) Sleepers Beware - Russell

Well, sir, it's a few minutes past 12 o'clock noon as we approach the small house halfway up in the next block now. And here, walking along the alley, homeward bound for dinner, we see Vic and John Russell.

Let's fall in behind the gentleman and listen. Bluetooth Johnson claims he's going to give Annabelle Hem Street a gunny sack full of marshmallows on her birthday. Does it look to his admire Annabelle? Yeah. Gunny sack full of marshmallows sounds like a street delicate and fragile gift.

But my girl's birthday rolls around. I think I presented with a cold scuttle full of gum-dra or a trash bucket full of peppermint or no sock full of oranges. Go right in and enjoy your joke.

Not at all. Speaking of Lutu Johnson, he's about the biggest-hearted guy I know. Lutu Johnson will give you the shirt off. Excuse me, this is where I live. I know he lives here. Why don't you turn in then?

You start turning in. All right. I will. I will. I'd bring the party walking on the inside, had it turned in way back there. Sure, it would. That's why the neighbors haven't got any grass in their yards.

They can't expect any red out grass in February. How about the sweet little newborn shoots, sleeping just below the sides, or waiting for February to close the slippery doors so that they can greet bright April with their emerald fire?

You just make that up? I have an idea, it's a literary fragment that lurks in my subconscious. When was the port kicked, that is the port brown and when he held it down the line beneath his chin they asked to tell him whether or not he liked but it.