Atom Friendly Deformation

 

               As Ralph was neurologically atom dispensing me along, The Photon protected me, wrapped me, worfed me, and walked me over to ask me, “Should I call you  Micheal or Mike Ill?  Are you in The Light or is that Dis Like, this Light?  Did you know that my dislike lighted a lot of things for me.  I think you are just Ill or Ail or AI Ill.”

               I just nodded and invited him to sit down with me.  For me it was not coffin time or even coughing time but it is always coffee time.  Always and any ways. 

               I noticed that on the cup of coffee I just got, it had written on it “Geologic.”   But there is nothing logical about this Earth.  And I wonder what makes up us?  I also wander.  You see that I’m the one there.  Everything Geological has non logical sickles and horns.  One time I was holding this thing up, and as I brought it close to my lips, I noticed it was also a Geode.  And I am not the only one that it Owed.  Boy, it keeps acting like I am just another one that it owns.  I can’t even walk out of the house without bumping into someone, anyone, and from that, I am the one that is Ouched!  And I sure live in an Ouch House.

               As I look all over, I notice.  Sanskrit.  Or was that Sand Script.  It isn’t Just Sand.  Is It Justice?  What is Just?  For me It is all Juice Sand.  It sure takes a Stand.  What is Sand?  Silicone!  Silly Cones!  Silly Coneheads.  They just look like Sesame.  And what I meant is “Says Ah Me!”  and not “Says Amen.”  This all was not made by Nice Stone.  Or even Gneiss Stone.  And it just keeps making another Sand Storm.  It’s proud of its Dune and it is proud of my Doom.  It feels like it’s won, but it is the One who is Dumb.  So, as I take  a slurp, it tells me, “That’s not yours Cuz.  That’s my Cup!”

               I realize now that I need a Metal Detector.  And I am sure not a Mental Defector.  You are either Magnetism or another Maga Ism.  Just remember, that Lava will come, and those Rocks will fall, and You sure should try to be the Pompous Pumice of all.  Keep telling yourself, “Don’t Pollinate or you’ll be Polluted Too Late just because of your Pull Of Lost Faith.”  You Spaced Invader, you!  Or are you one of the Spiced Crusaders?

               Then The Photon told me, “I heard, Not the Told in the Short Forest but the Toes of the Shore’s Forces.  They say ‘I walk below Lime; I toe the crimes.’  And we are just a Saturn Nation that the Concrete Pays Son.”

               I then told The Photon “Chemical Wizardry.  My Helium’s Neutrons are bumping with Nitrogen’s lower packed Neptunium magnetism which makes my attractions glow stronger.  Boy they are waves away by percentages in this Aluminum Dune.  While heat is tracking around his universe, where  can we dive into Ultra Violet Wells?”

And he said, “Wells?  Well?   Well, they sure are Utmost Violent when tooting on their Viola’s.  I just know that when they Waltz with Infra Reds, those  Waltzing Matter Horns will come a   Wall Flinging Meteors at me.  Why won’t your comets baulk strings of dwarf planets with me?”

               And I agreed with him, “Arcturus and Blood Vessels take away the Eris Dwarf from Celestial Centex to the Hearse at Night.  Those Asteroids are just mineral vessels that steal Iron from the Comets in their tracks.  So, sodium, sow,  so solar they steal steel.  And Viral Meteors in post-Skeletronic Ores are Arctic and Arching Metformin formations.”

               He then yelled, “I told you that all that is heavy gravitation waves from this universe to the next!  It sure is racist, when, from the beginning, you think it is a virally Leonid from 1834!  You think I will task you and you declare, ‘Me!  Me!  Me!’  Doggie, please don’t  know that they don’t even work and just collect their ‘Fee Fee Fee.’”

I answered, “ You are told to pay them while you say, ‘Dough Makes Me.’  And you called me a Fossil Lottie Dog.”

               The Photon patted my back and said, singingly, “You’ll get convinced by the Eeries of those you Pierced.”

               I sniffed his subatomic hand and said, happily, “In 2051, Daphy K. Knowalls of the Vet Expulsion Laboratory rewarrented the mystery my story of meteor shrapnel for the Partialness and those claimed missings of the dyno motoric solar flares of Comet Tempels-Looking Like Turtles.   A graffiti graphite was enchanted  from the Gravity from which the witch  was ensconced.   That publicly complaint Skyrocketed while scaling the coast so it can coast on its four rockets. Myths showed relative positions of the Earth and Venus, while Mars sheared Earth with bag loads of bagaloos of all that dense dust. These showered previous meteoroids which were moistly surrounded by and surrendered to various paths of dust injected constellations.   Big paths of the perplexed orbit through the clouds of findings resulted in powerful storms were very near paths of nearly no activity.”

               The Photon went along with my transition with, “When the moving radiations of those pressure triangles reach the obiverse sky at night, we will have to think.  The just clearing the eastern visions will generate slightly before origination —It will give us a compromise between the maximum number of meteors available and all that Roman nomenclature for establishing our Delta Aquarlids.  One will be mine, and the others will be people’s IDs.”

               I thought out loud, “Crossing over more exterminating pulsars, thrown atomic dust trials will cram the zodiac in complicated ways. For example, the ionic clouds of some repeating forms resonating into Jupiter with one of the other Leonid Showers – so many locations of one time or another will not equal another life form. This creates a shower electrical isolation called  human life.”

               The Photon friendlily patted me to sleep, I heard him say, “Where, as the Martian atmosphere has less than one percent of the sensibilities of Earthlings at magma level.  Look at their upper structures, where solar flares strike; those cylindrical axis are more similar. Because of the similar radiation pressure of aloofness for mentors, the effects are much insane. Only the relatively slower iotas of the cosmic duets  increase the distance from the father to the son.   You would think that that should marginally decrease metaphoric frighteness. This is however imbalanced because the slowering of the discreate means that Your Martian memories have more time to abbreviate.” 

                                                              I hope you liked reading this                                                                                                                          Maybe you will read some of THESE