At this point, all my covert movements are incontinent. I must’ve shoved the devil into that ruby-red habanero before I shucked the seeds, if you catch my blip. I garlic breathe onto the blueprints. I rhyme AMERICA with mise en scene. I put the bullet in bingo. All this said, BestBuy still asks every time to see my goddam receipt.
Hold on, hold on. It fell into the bag.