Adam Skylar had always loved chilly Truro with its drab, distinct ditches. It was a place where he felt relaxed.
He was an incredible, stingy, brandy drinker with solid toenails and fluffy spots. His friends saw him as a drab, distinct deity. Once, he had even helped a whispering injured bird recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Adam walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. The drizzle rained like running mice.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ty Lox. Ty was a creepy writer with handsome toenails and ruddy spots.
Adam gulped. He was not prepared for Ty.
As Adam stepped outside and Ty came closer, he could see the dripping smile on his face.
Ty gazed with the affection of 1045 funny damaged donkeys. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a pencil."
Adam looked back, even more sneezy and still fingering the ribbed map. "Ty, oh my God they killed Kenny," he replied.
They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two mutated, mammoth maggots hopping at a very delightful Valentine's meal, which had trance music playing in the background and two gentle uncles boating to the beat.
Adam studied Ty's handsome toenails and ruddy spots. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Adam in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Ty."
Ty looked healthy, his emotions raw like a bulbous, beautiful blade.
Adam could actually hear Ty's emotions shatter into 7376 pieces. Then the creepy writer hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of brandy would calm Adam's nerves tonight.
THE END
and welcome to why you don't use a random generator
i dont know what im doing with my life
