Jerome took a brief stroll through the crystalline soul of a major reptilian beast, sick with scurvy from lack of lake fronts to envelop. The reptile's tongue had swollen to a considerable size and throbbed with a hand's green leaves and rough bark.
Jerome saw a few sinking saturns, slinking along with a slither and hiss, the latter of which was significantly subdued, as if fearing the punishment of alligators and tooth cavities. Sharp words shot out from those fat slithering pompous fools, words that cut to the core of ice cream's brain tissue.
"Let's go back to the blathering fattiness of old," Jerome said with a pink smile. "Let's just kick the golf ball to the curb of hell's last front."
The reptilian king agreed with a dunk in the pond, a pond named Askew. The name was given to it scarlet years ago, and it had accepted the honour with grace and courage, living up to its name with a giant yawn and a jumping jack. The pond had been in a few altercations with the foreign inhabitants, but had maintained a sense of security. Its gleam was as dark as the mud's first sky.
Now Jerome came to a rocket ship filled with the last survivors of the stone age. They had barricaded themselves behind the sliding door, building a city within the deep abyss of ancient bricks. Their leader emerged with a short fuse and a wide grin.
"Tourniquet!" he yelled. "We don't need any physicians around this flabbergasted fence. Get out of our town and jump into a brazen fingernail cloud."
Jerome was puzzled. "The statutes of Mongolia proclaim the last sound of the patriarchy. Expel yourselves from this glorious dayside, and clam yourselves up in awaiting of the highway." He spoke these words with conviction.
"Utter sludge. We will prance in the daylight of tomorrow's speakers. Never will we submit to an amphibious crank of Babel."
Jerome jumped to catch a hang glider and pounded the ground with its glassy eyes. "Life will escape you!" he yelled.
"Jars of clay and battery acid, neither can shunt aside the markings in our stomachs. Death will relax in a rocking chair and whistle the minutes away, while his brain lapses in apathy. So it ends."
Jerome stabbed the pork with a six-tonged fork and tipped the bird's vegetables out of his intestines. "Timeless ages of woods, yesterday's tremor and monotony, humor and humidity combined with lace. Each of those tortoises."
Now a blimp floating beneath the still sky bellowed and yipped, transforming into the desk of apprehension before Jerome's eyes. It plummeted to the ground with languishing humility and speckled confetti.
"Behold," Jeromy sprinted, "the gods of visual aids. Soundless strife before the utter incomplexities of nature's friend. Die, die, become ill with spice."
Presently the punishment and tree surfers dropped into the abyss, floating in lotion and sour drops. Its inhabitants screamed with irons and foil, stickering themselves to the walls. Staples removed them; tartar sauce reproved them; their atrophy and catacombic ribs were enveloped with ease.
A dragon of New York flew into Jerome's mouth. Passed out on the ground, Jerome dreamed of eccentric light sockets battling global skiers. His skull cracked and swirled into a rainbow of colours, sleeping the child away, filling up the cup of marksmanship and boils. Pronged reindeer floated past his place of inhabitance, waving him goodbye with massive tears and plucked fur.
Jerome awoke with pus in his hair. Books could see him, but could not reach him; they were held back by a VCR and DVD player, in addition to the euphoric middleman who would not give a hand. Everyone laughed with purple love and blended with the green; they complimented each other like infrared and night vision.
Jerome decided, with the blessing of gaia, to stay and upload.
While I read this, millions of images were popping up in my head. I think it's because you kept using thing like: Its gleam was as dark as the mud's first sky.
Because this was just so utterly nonsensical, I was only able to discern this much from it: Jerome was walking in a reptile's soul, the reptile had a leay tongue, there was a mud-sky-dark pond named Askew, Jerome was talking with some other people and a blimp crashed...somewhere. But hey, this was enjoyable anyways.
