Alliteration is aligning allies whose alloy

Alliteration is aligning allies whose alloy helmets allow them to gain allowance money for all altering purposes

besides benign betterment before blowing buku bucks on beta-version battalions of bogus-brand bargain-basement battlebots to bully

buskers busking by Boston. Because bullying bought bullies bad bets, bullies bashed bad boys, betting beyond beatings being bad. But beatings beat being bad, beatings bely bettings

and could a cute cat casually caramelize centuries of cannibalistic cabbages, causing a considerable crash to crack the creepy cages of

pots, chronically crapping crunchy crenulated Calvin Coolidge coprolites. Droppings distinctly defined, doodoo doubles, eponymous Ebenbild of the erstwhile elected

First Frenchman. "Freedom!" the First Frenchman fumed, getting good and grumpy. Gertrude held his hand heavenward and hailed him a hero. "He is incredible! Indispensable!" If it is

just juvenile justice, may kindergarteners kick kneecaps as the kettledrums' loud lament linger on the latitudes of lawlessness!" Mr. Mercer mewled. "Never!" nattered Nathan Noome.

a Nantucket native. "Oi, guv, you're being offensive and oafish." The others outside on the porch are pleading for Paul's Pass to pass by to them, please. "Quickly call the Quack!"

Dr. Quakenbush was in the office. He made house calls. This one was to be the last one ever because his folding story career was just beginning.