Your serfs are sloshed

Signing the credit slip at the karaoke hostess bar, where I'd spent two hours buying carafes of fruity cocktails for the middle-aged in heels while failing to recruit a one for my army, I unexpectedly found the automatic writing taking over. Yuk Fu's will was stout. He lamented the lack in his time of amenities. O the 84 years of doing his business in all ungainly weathers. Would that his hole, like a worm, spun silk!

I completed the slip with the signature of the 3rd century mongolian mystic, sans decimal numbers. At the management's displeasure, I scoffed, Yea your serfs are sloshed! To lack is a condition of life, but to lack conditioner is to suffer split ends! I Am The Board of Directories!!