Farmer LaHaye cursed the hot day. His ass was sweaty and sluggish.
The more he snapped and whipped; the more the ass would bray. The
draggon flies tormented him: buzzing about his head for a taste...
The field was not half turned with his lazy ass and dull plow.
His daughter Sally sat in the shade of a plum tree: practicing her
reading. .. She giggled as her father tried to get his ass to move, while
his britches slipped below his hips. Sally read~~~
"What is a white man on a horse?"
"That is the first day."
"And the red man on the red horse?"
"That is the rising sun."
"And the black man on the black horse?"
"That is the third and he is the Knight that covers me."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see three tiny figures nibbling on
a plum. They looked like madens with firefly wings. Sally turned to
gaze at them and they vanished. She thought that she was thirsty
and had some more cider. She streached her slender figure in the hammock.
It was time for a nap. .
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