being as old as a petunia

The most delighted method of being not unlike something that is both inimical and diabolical at times that vary depending on the phase of the sun and the prime numbered days of the prime numbered months renders the heart breaking calousness that a deviant takes pleasure in masticating like a sour lunch of elbow macaroni cooked in elbow grease. To denature the plaid cardigan would rent flagwards the illicit elicitation. Serendipity, much like the least favourite path taken by the fewest possible people, crouched, hidden from the mail man who was a woman. That Serendipity is shy is no surprise to you, the reader. I should know.