The gloriphic food of Saint Bernardtion

Chapter 1. Whilst in humble, hunger thee not... (Great Philosophy, p.348)

There she was, staying laying dumb. "I am a man of charge", she thaught. "Well, it's time for greandes".
A suculent, blentful greandes always thirsties up the pain one hasserds in distraction. It was a thornful day of October, with minds blowing the winds in all directions and here, our lady Grimsy Batham McDoyle was hanging time with a bang.

But is was a good time. You see, our Mrs. McDoyle was one heck of a bum. She was tall, but grody, slim, yet chimsy. She even used to say: "Hello, you utter melon. You think you can chew me?". No, not now, we would argue.

In the end, this doesn't matter. Because time would change. Verily.

After the winter, Grimsy started picking very glottyful mushrooms. "Well, I have orange, and purple, and... Where's my blue mushroom?" But whence time comes, it comes asoon and afar. So Grimsy, by her saying, Batham, never minded every little buchs God was throwing at her. She just went on and keep buzzing.

Saint Bernardtion was not your regular place of phoque. Things that are yet not to be seen have had to pass, and many which are to have had gone by... Well, you get the picture.

But the mushroom was a true wealth on its bown.

Chapter 2. Not apleasing, but sturnful and proscrasting as a rock. Not shipy and pointarious, but loudar and gravenious as a mushroom. (Great Philosophy, p.1)

To be continued on our next time