In the wally cally of the shilly mills, stood a man of averooge height, a fool ten feet, forty cents, he stood around, waiting for the goody misses to stand before the judge. "How can I even dare run agroon such a fine specisemen?", asked the man, (who went by the name Sonny Flooz.) "I have hardly any thing or two to go by in the fourth degree." The Judge replied with silly content, "You certainly have a dollar or two to spare for the seventh." At the news of this Philly Dills ran back to his hovel (which was more like a shack, but I digress.) to find his shovel which he would dig the executioner's hole for Sonny Flooz.
The day finally arrived when the Executioner.exe finally found the hole. "This is a large opening in the fleshy undertone of fleshy dirt stuff." ,said the comical executioner (who also was named Sonny Flooz.) Phill Dills exited his mansion, looking at the proud piece of fertilized space that filled his dirty dirt air. He jumped in at the thought of being a Sonny Flooz and ended his own repertoir, then Sonny Flooz made his escape from the silly cookie jar of the town (which in this case, could be considered a Great Dane.)
The judge, at the news, seemed very angroose. "I am very angroose-like!" ,said the judge, (who was not the same angroose judge aforementioned before the mentioning of the second angroose judge, but both judges were angrily angroose nonetheless.) "I shall find the 47th regime and capture the Floozy flooz that started this floozidemic!"
And so, the 47th regime chased Sonny Flooz off of the strangely lit bridge of fancy dance, and none of them survived. The judging judges of Judgemester all starved to death after getting no grants for solving the crime.
~Fin~
