Marvin picked five dozen flowers and lifted them up. He blew on them, letting their petals fly under the screeching desert fat.
Okay, let's go:
Hundreds and hundreds of screaming fat men.
Hundreds and hundreds of screaming fat men.
Let's go.
One hundred little babies.
"My oven mitts expired." Grandfather rinsed his hands off with disgust. Billy roped the fire extinguisher with his thick rope. "HA!"
Harpoon my little grandmother.
Harpoon my little grandmother.
Umph. Let's go.
I can't focus right now. My writing just flails around and chooses its direction on its own. I'm not in the writing mindset.
Fourteen creeping giants.
