Twisty Twerps

Twisted Apples

There are apples in the kitchen. The knife is chasing them calling Apple Butter is your future. The apples have already been plucked from the Mummies of yester years orchard of fantasies and futures. They rolled in on Crampy. Croonies' floating flimtad. Groping for grannies plucking walnuts off flooty carpets that will be vacant in sooner times. 
Crampy Croony silently handed them over to Flatty Nathy to create a small fortune of favors.
Favors abounding into the purses of flittads twisting minds to actions.
The ants are blessing the orchestration and the killer bees are blopping bloopers to make canned laughter not to be confused with canned apple butter. 
But close your ears quickly before termites get in and invade your brain of bloosies. So you don't wallop a baby bull who needs attention. 
Wheezing wizards wafting twisted waves of cinnamon to kill sneezing in mischief to stomp a foe of angels lead by a demon he continues to snap.
Poof!

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