parent speaks of something other than own child

In a shocking, late-Sunday-night twist, Grigogi Chevlovskiev, 39, father of a four year old girl, spoke for more than three whole minutes on a topic unrelated to and having virtually nothing to do with Alloninya, his daughter, raven-haired spawn of his loins. Whereas Mr. Chevlovskiev has since the birth of his first child not been able to go for very long without pointing out just how cool, funny, witty, or cute he considers his kid to be, he shocked the small crowd of fellow coffee-shop patrons by speaking on a matter of national importance instead of explaining his daughter's supposedly special or apparently hilarious ticks, habits, preferences, pet-peeves, routines, hijinks, likes, or dislikes. The spell of non-child-related activity ended, however, when the man glanced at his smart-phone, which as a background image features a picture of his daughter with her face covered in bright-red cherry pie filling, whereupon he launched into a detailed, long-winded explanation – for the fucking millionth time that day, it seemed like – of what exactly she would be doing at her preschool's special Summer session.

場黑麥 menterefecterem fecit

rape-horn found

Having found a rape-horn discarded seemingly without a second thought in an alley behind the Denny's out on route 44 – the one right next to that preschool where those kids are always playing – Henri Simpcoe-Jones IV, a professional saxophonist and amateur rape-horn enthusiast, mused aloud, saying, “The Vikings used to play a horn just like this one to signal to persons living in coastal communities, or in communities located near major rivers, that they were about to receive the raping of a lifetime.” Turning the device over in his hands with gingerly care and abject devotion, the East St. Louis native pointed out the fine inlay of authentic whalebone-ivory, shimmering mother of pearl, and illegally-farmed mahogany hardwoods. “Do you see these little holes right here?” he said, pointing to slight, gold-rimmed indentations in the nearly half-meter-long instrument. “Into these holes go the fingers; then the rape-horn naturally raises to the lips; whereupon, provided one has drawn a few good lung-fulls of this fine prairie air, it is sounded with a piercing and awesome note, thus signaling to all within earshot that rape is in the air.” Upon blowing into the rape-horn with all his might, Mr. Simpcoe-Jones scared half-to-death a woman a few blocks over who was in her garden watering her daffodils, and caused one closeted homosexual father of three all the way on the other side of town to measure his most significant erection in years.

場黑麥 menterefecterem fecit