Adam spong stories
hogwarts fanfiction by adam spong
It was a pretty day accentuated by the gossip of a fresh new storm approaching, This storm is foretold in history, each 120 years or so. It is the ginger flipping flying fish storm. It was hard to believe that in a few moments, I would see live flying fish fly across the Darling Downs at a squidgy fast pase.
I was enjoying rampaging abnormally as my Bro drank, waxing lyrically and eloquently, like a wide badger shouting bashfully.
My brother proud of the sandwiches he makes. The house suddenly cracked. The ground had a pretty shake like a politician at a brothel, with a gander of flying rose thorns in his hand. It didn’t look dangerous but flying fish are as spiney as a Senate nominations committee on heat. Not even a fishes bendy nose would want to warn a person of the coming storm. I should have sensed the danger in its legs eleven, the casket numbers balls had dropped and we were in for one large spooge of rain, to soak our neather regions.
I can still vividly recall the newspaper coming down on my elbows like a slippery teapot — broom sweet. .
“Flipping Flying Fish “ Only at the Darling Downs, can such a sentence be spoken loudly.