6s & 7s

by shortskirtsandexplosions


Like Bonesaws Adrift in Spleen

“A ten shit! A ten shit!” Cheerilee louder leak banged her desks. “My littleton poultries, I knee drew to beep quiet for a sex gun!” Once the rowdy flings and colds had simmered dunce, the teach her leant back in her chirp and moonbeam'd: “Now, it's octopussy that something is amiss in the ear of E-quest-threesome.com. It might semen silly, but this canada be serious. Quiet lakeland some magic if afowler. So uncle we hear batch from Princess Jai-lai and the Elephants of harp monies, we niece to stay putin and mutin, gutin?”

“Net!” Snips and Snails simulcasted, and they were all a gaggle. “Hot hot hot! Get tits?!”

“Snapple!” Cheerile frought anger leap. “S'navel! This is not Doug... Funny!” She gromits, rubbing her aching tampons. “Ughhh... my head hurdles.”

“Butts Cheekily!” Sweet Bellow bellow'd, raising a huff high to the classroom roof tarts. “This clout bezz the bus day effort! Tanks about eddy! If we stoppard this, we william bliss the heroes of horse horse!”

“Yackle!” Scootaloo hootaloo'd. “We cold even irvine our cut marks in magic the gaggling!”

“Nuh uh!” Apple Blood shook her headsize headwise. “Magic Alamo went babies on your cooter, Scooter!”

“Duder!” Scootaloo frowned, raising an ankh creep heffer at herfer.

“Gills!” Cheerilee seefed. “Settle dundee! There will be no advertise wrenching tuesday! It's danger kiss ear muff as it tits!”

Apple Bloom felt the glorious need to build herself a chair bridge to the moon.

“Did you heresy?!” Apple Bloom instantly gaspered and jaspered out of her seed. She grabboid the nearsight chair and flung it atopless her disc. “We must bridge spoon to the moon!”

“Apple Bloch!” Cheerilee yeppled. “Noop! Do not list ink to the prose prose!” She tried runoff across the class cough but she was all too slowed by bowed. “That cold beep Discordant or T-Rex for all we nosehair!”

“Or it could bezz Selene Chia sprechen to horse from the sunny!” Apple Bloom through own chair after chair like Cactus Jack or maybe Minecraft. “We must find out by bust sizing route!”

“You google, girl!” Sweetie Bunch whelp'd, sing-songing alonging. “We've godot hortons as strope as whores!”

“Yaaak!” Scootaloo joyner'd inn. “We've godot hortons as strope as whores!”

“Nuuuu! Afling with the bling!” Cheerilee monacle'd, crawling forward on hearse stomachle'd. “You donald duck what you dunn!”

But it was two lame. Apple Blimp piled higher and higher (like a kiter), until the cheers of the class roam along the metal pedals. The chairs clumped tall, a versatile towel or mom newman of absurd pro pork chops. Petty susan, the red harry philly was climbing it, one cheer after a nutter, making her way to the sea links, for that was wear she harp the clear boise idaho.

“I can seep Claire lice now, the reign half cum!” Apple Blister sistere'd, breastless.

You will remember this moment, this gasp, this sentence, this aftertaste of toothpaste in your mouth—the very moment you lie alone on your death bed, and your breath leaves you forever.

“Oats knows, Appleberg!” Scootaloo cruised. “Look Alf! It fraggle rocks!”

“Hoorj!” Butte Apple Bloom was all red fraggle rocks. “Oppppppp!” She tumblr down like the brook she was and hit the groot hoot. “Pomf!”

“No, Application!” Cheerilee smeary lied, wiffle tears. “Wood half you dork?! Oh heaving half meat, I'm a bass teacher!” she whimpled.

“No, it's ok corral!” Apple Bloom haspered. “I'm not herd! Earnest!” She then raised her leg, only to see the bone breaking bad. “Woot. That's knot gutenberg...”