He sat, excited as a fat kid in a candy store, anxiously awaiting his anticipated arrival to the great dead sea of salt swallowing sea-serpents. The soaring sky-swan swam slowly to the surface. He descended down the delta cargo-bird. The young lad loved landing at the lake to visit his kin-folk, but fate had a mighty miracle in store for the sly son of Dennis. The rigorous trek along the speed-street finally brought Devon Dennison to his destination of the isolate island of Cliftonia. Upon his arrival many of his flamboyant faithful family freely fattened his ego with cheers of joy. But the travelers second cousin twice removed, most excited of all, for he cherished the great Devon whole heartedly having heaping hunger for his happiness. Ty O’Relish needs not to say a word for his eyes spoke a sweet song of feast and slumber upon Prince Ty’s hall. Devon thought in his head, “For my dear friend Ty O’Relish is butter to my buns but forsake me not, I do not like running through a field of daisies as a schoolboy and school girl with him.” The wrath of his mother dearest was upon him and she silently swore sour sleeping to sunrise and Satan shouted superbly for he won the war between Devon going or not, and from there was the start of his woes. He was but an ant on an anthill, the young Ty was a giant grasping a magnifying glass. The horrific news of having to stay over at his cousins was just the start, horrendous information also ensued. He was forced to feed the wingless-Pegasus’ nutrients as the sun red with rage rightfully rose ready to ravish. Reluctantly the son of Dennis set out on his travels for Prince Ty lived in Daytonshire, a five days walk from Cliftonia. They arrived but this time he was as excited as a flamer in a nude bar. King Devon and Tyrel, both young, did what all other kids would do to have fun. They played Xbox for hours, they jumped on the tramp outside, and then they beat up his little brothers. Needless to say Devon was...
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