>>> Item number 11938 from WRITERS LOG9304D --- (43 records) ----- <<< Date: Wed, 28 Apr 1993 18:32:01 JST Reply-To: WRITERS Sender: WRITERS From: Mike Barker Subject: SWB: Snarkly Veldt I think my synapses started on the wrong side of life today. (just in case - no, you didn't misread it, there is something wrong with the words...last warning, you are entering a free flight zone:-) what can I say? Today is a strange day. tink or as the sly nips fray: witch ken id slay? toray wish a stained play. tank ---------------------------------- Snarkly Veldt Once upon a tine, a young gale went for a balk. It was the hat of the gnome, rhyme for a loan, fast chapel to gory, and mare tea comb. At first blast, the slip slopper jammed, a runt malt. Cache grained a crowd at the frivolous route. At second grace, the patcher ingrabe stodly tood, creche scramming and plaiting day mark hem hood. At third face, outfelt modly quod and knocked aglay. Canache panted in blanch airs, a braid toe swatch. The quasher slapt often gratin musk and paused, to blink the gale from waltzing alone. A minuet played swayly, and hen ale rained. Fear glomming into Rome, ser gale salad, twisted a ray, and lapped for Roy. "A pod! A pod!", flatting crudes did sway, bands grating upon that jay. What ill shows to grow, a balk is as mad as a bale of hay. ---------------------------------------