It Was Oblate Ontologically Sounds

Brendan, David, Derrick, Warren

17th December, 1993

A sunny day. Mary's napkin folded around her. ``If only my cheesy thrombosis didn't occur synaptically, I could make the car engine start''. Then the sun exploded and the engine stopped, thus leaving Eric in the dark with nose drippings exuding from his left orifice. ``Stop!'' exclaimed Mary, fording the ditch and giggling insanely as if her own existence was forever in doubt. What news from Westborough? Oblate potato chips taste strange when soaked in Vegemite and can make one hell of a large gumbo dip that is useful in patching up the story so far.

Meanwhile, as the accordion stopped and began to start in a somewhat similar but slightly different way than previously heard by the astounded crowd before him, it became oblate and then exploded, killing Patrick and causing permanent hearing loss to three sheep and a china duck who was sitting on the Marshall stack in front of the drum riser where Patrick once stood playing Hispanic ritual dances in a large pair of rustic looking glasses, now commonly known as self-rotating binoculars, or even a petunia on heat.

In a previous life, Mary became used to being alone while making woolen socks for her little lamb when suddenly she realised the reason she was alone was because her little lamb was now six caucasians in search of a title. Luckily one passed, and was photographed in italics. ``Again!'' she cried and as the straps tightened, they broke one by one until no more were left. It would soon be over! Oblate as the warthog was, wondering why he was in this story of the building which apparently was becoming increasingly affected by the absence of the ink in this pen!

Stuart laughed! His ego was draining away, now greyer than black. As the ink ran out, so did the vodka and Stuart could always go back and see Anja again. Insanely, the oblate spheroid was rotating around the P.A stack where Stuart laughed at the sounds emanating from the oblately ontologic structure vector near the Pit of Death. The ontology clinic closed as the oblate sounds wheeled about them. Such a sunny day.