Turnaround
The Nectary weasel watched the sweaty cleaner with his wet carnal eyes, his rascal eye went darting from side to side whilst Clara Newt-Eyes waited. The promise of canary eel stew did not warm them and their boat, the Tanya, crewless, was unready to sail despite it being Newcastle year. But there were nasty lace curtains on the windows and he only saw Tyne cereal and not the true Newcastle spirit.
posted by Weasel @ 12:21 AM
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