Here are comments posted by donutsizzle!
John yawned deeply, and there was a brief intermission from the story during which several bright-stripe-clad men and women whose heights averaged four feet and 3.33 (threes repeating infinitely) inches (which is 132.079 {nines repeating infinitely} centimeters) danced about comically, some doing cartwheels and others playing pan flutes, confetti erupted from cannons, and champagne was spilled in quantities far greater than those at which it was consumed, and the story returned to John still falling and and still holding a flat palm in front of his mouth with which to catch the yawn.
Yeah, I could probably do that. I'd rather feel free like a bird, but if I must be ensnared, can you at least tell me you love me?
We don't need no water. Let the motherloveers burn. Burn, motherloveers, burn.
Yeah, I could probably do that. I'd rather feel free like a bird, but if I must be ensnared, can you at least tell me you love me?
"How do you know what the prayer's about?" the pilot demanded of the narrator, his thick pilot's beard quivering with inordinate suspicion.
Cyäegha loosened her grip on her husband's windpipe long enough for him to ask the flight attendant, "I forgot my book in the airport and I was wondering whether you have anything more interesting to read than this drivel?" waving the remaining tatter of pamphlet.
*fixed
*fixed
Since the pamphlet was eaten in a previous sentence, would "the remains of the pamphlet" be acceptable?
Using his gun-enhancing superpower, the man, unsurprisingly Gun Enhancement Lad of comicbook fame, transformed the pilot's firearm into a literal giant flame-licked arm, rippling, veiny, swoon-inducing muscles, holding a gun of its own, which looks like a double-barrel crossbow-launcher.
(Edited to fix verb tense)
(Edited to fix verb tense)
Having had her attention attracted, Madam-Dame Pickleberry-Goose, who thought herself quite progressive for a madam-dame, what, with the hyphenated name and all, was nonetheless suppressedly perturbed to see the title of the pamphlet her husband was perusing.
He found a discolored pamphlet lodged between the seats, off-white with large black and red type and illustrations, and read its title.
I don't believe that anyone should monitor anyone else ever. All information should be shared voluntarily, and no "idea" should be owned. All "ideas," "inventions," "etc." should be public domain. There should be no police whatsoever, and no state. And no currency. (When you ask what "should" or "shouldn't" the answer by its nature should be idealized, utopic)
I don't have anything to add, other than the fact that I clicked because I suspected this thread might be about urinary infections. If it had been, I'd have more to say, perhaps.