Once Upon A Dork & Rubbery Night - Chapter 6.

6.
The entire wound seemed somehow struddle as I picked inlet mine vest for a strawberry brandy keyhole emulet.

“Correct” shouted the goude Doctor, as Hers chortled in the mimulence, “you will be directed to the chamber chortly.”

“Egg.” I said in my deference.

“And so,” Hers retarded, “the deference rests.” And she began to escort me pointedly towards the under-chamber.

“Luke, let’s slit the deference. Sisty for tea. Delock me lubly.”

“Desist!” she rasped with a wrench at my wrist. “In’m,” as she pushed me; dark canine smelling danger. Dungeon. Nothing but a bored dugong for company.

“Shit!” I spicked.

“Bucket in the corner,” said the dugong, whose name was Dugong, comfortably.

I nestled again and found the keycicle.

“No problemo, attend temporarily will be free we,” say me.

“A duck!” shouted Dugong as she moved with enormous speed towards, taking the keycicle from palm with slippery vigour and swall-hungering it.

“What the?”

“I love duck, partic metal oily door duck.”

“We call them keycicles” I explained.

“Idiots,” respired the Dugong digestively. “What for?”

“Aprie la porta, preferably.”

“Ah, “ responded, as he with many dificulty turned red and ignored the sunset, “mi dispiace.”

“Prego.”

“But what to now my endangered spleen seed? How long you domicile this riddle?”

The dugong counted upon his musical his row of trumpts shinnily against the black rocked corner, then concluded.

“Lunchtime, plus a minute, or seventeen ears of corn in human extravagence.”

“Two weeks hey?”

“No.”

“I see.”

“Where?”

“Nothing, it’s an expression.”

“Happily.”

And he began to choose a trumped.

“What,“ I retorted, “was your criminal?”

“Have you ever eared a dugong play a brass horn?”

I pondered, then answered, almost honestly, “As a matter of fact, no.”

“Here’s wishing,” he bled orally, and then put the Yamaha to his black and oily lips.