There's a small man camping in the undetermined venue where your aunt repeated "vanish" while the ants were speaking Spanish and we dursn't wait a minute when the worms all scream "a mile" and we can't remember anything that doesn't make us smile. You're a trudger, and you're smudged, and I cannot tell your gender. Be it ever so surrender, there's no place quite like Rome.

9 million Japanese dollars

one dozen American yen

Hearts ablaze with love or something. We'll be quite the dozen eggs. When you smell the great fromunda, when your legs embrace the edge, you will feel a bold compulsion, you will need to do the same, watch me carefully and wonder: when adjusted, will it smudge?

S'tool. We mustn't use it unless we are sure we've all our legs. Place it where you're hope sits under. Sift and shuffle, bitter dregs. If there's anything you ponder, if there's residue of me, gallantly and promptly plunder. Make those undergoing splendor, buy you beers upon their knees. Hotep. Adept. Precept. Unrequited, unrequested, re-divided, bumblebees.
Right about
that amount