"Aloe, aloe!"
The rocket fuel peng-kings, a handsome flock of wingmen, huddled.
As the waddle of wingmen began their Friday evening, lifting up their tankards and held a toast towards grapefruit candy coated afternoon sunsets.
A spring, cut grass aromatic calendula tea. A buttercup of all sorts, sweet anise of black, white, and orange.
Nodding did a dawdle to ruffled necklines of a gullet pouch. Tankards a plenty, abundance when mulling over spicy chilli thrills in the moment.
"Rise, Rice, and Ryes", a few eggs from one bird.
It was no Iced tea breaking ice with these breeds, or bread with any butter.
The pudding so-it became, for a quaint peckish wheat of waiting. Truffle in centre with a crisp layered coating, same'old liners of this wheat once milk was added.
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