Care to Carry a Shop32 “Cart”-ridge in The Fridge

Come around to the sound of a PUSH -pop and take a flop when faced with not a push-up bra, you girls reading me, but to be taken down by the sound of a chirping crickety critter when the Ocean water is bitter, to a Betty and a Sally, with one cooking chocolate-chip ones, and Israel is this great nation’s buddy but when around to the sound of that crotchety old man, singing his notes to play a HARP with a pumped up heart circulating RBC’s and beat up Trousers to the rabble ramble of a stammering sung Damsel-  gyno the artist kissing the first fist of this “Damsel” Miss, to put one’s lips on the golden Ring but not touching the emerald gown-  yes, and with the Queenie ‘Crown’…

Me of French Royalty I am Jeffrey Marquis to say it sitting and loud and Crowned Royals of the Rotella’s so nice to me, treating my ought-ly anamorous as I should be Enamored with Bitcoin Cash in thee, the RED, so I dumped it instead, when to be “holding on” Nookie Rookie chessboard taken “Rook” to capture the tiny Pawn as the game goes on and unto the steam-laden (I signed up for the financial “Steam” check it out online), and me not drinking, at all, SOBER 2016 with NO WINE… every single time I see the wine list I go without, drinking whineing with TEETH WHITENING “Carbamide Peroxide 30%”

To be born and toot the horn of a lustful chalice-mate (or matey) with Liposuction and ending the convo when some pricks get on my nerves, with the Haloperidol injection I get every three weeks, my alternating hips to be corrected, and I won’t be dis-ur-spected with mumbo-jumbo “Jamal” the blacks are often very tall-  when compared to the white sand on a luxury beach because I won’t be “beseeched” with a leaky faucet tapping the monotonous drops, and give me 50/50 if you must, but I always demand the “51”-percent of tried ’n’ true ownership of heavy industries, that you should Google: MY “JMRQ HEAVY INDUSTRIES” address and phone number of none other than I when I feel fine, that, once again no wine, yeah no wine, all the time and not even on “special occasions” like the X-MAS “Time ‘o’ Year” when driving in sunken snow, you know, it’s not SAFE: (at home) 108959# in Charlton, MA where is my real “home” does lay and me here sometimes I feel dismay, post-April, a tape recorder, I think they record my actions on camera, came around, the sound of the vocal tenacity when one gets-in only AFTER  me, you see?

Come hung to the britches of Market Basket’s sold selling meaty Brisket of a Kit-Kat bar—I don’t go to bars at all for many years—and not shedding there in The Shed of helping Mom and Dad mow the lawn, the Summer dwindles on when the Fall Season hits, it’s October 29 today, so I say Hey Willy Wonka moved moving movie getting Chilly the warm Chili at that bar I would go to and they’d witness me stammer finding such insulted slumber—sleeping with my briefs on  occasionally not taking off my pants, Winny in the glutes, I say “Kaput” to the weight-lifters such, I would go to the gym very much, but that was the days of yore, 2006-2008 I swore I’d get in great shape, that I did, here’s my midsection- you have a LOOK to take, when I wouldn’t eat $CAKE:


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