And certainly many will try and steer me from the goal. What goal you say? The goal of jubilence! Infused with traces and pieces of both soccer balls, and numerous latinos.
Now I won't go there but if you will that's fine by me.
I won't retrace my steps toe the abode of the hispanic; though valiant and well-mannered in the ancients of quesadilla, it is thorouhgly and utterly devoid of the tact so common to a TrollPop. Accordingly, my fist will make do as something that I can't even see from here cause I mean wow this is long.
So a one two, a one two, a three four and BAM. You're off the map. I bet you are quite surprised at this turn of events. I understand there's much to take in but an adept mind and a discerning spirit will integrate and dissect the maps and quandries of success found scattered amongst this post.
And by George, do I have one large tack up the whammy.