About: Wilson Carter   Sponge Permalink

An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : dbkwik.webdatacommons.org associated with source dataset(s)

Wilson Carter knew nothing about baseball. But that didn't stop him from signing up for pitcher at Ruggles Academy. It was dinnertime. A lone wolf eats a babydoll made of cabbages. Etc etc etc. In other words, the town crier was out of a job. This meant no more spring water for the village. No more soup for Old Yimmy. Not even a sop for Hamster the striped ferret blind in one eye. What does this all mean? It means our city is turning into a hitchhouse for bellomed swavers and snorpitious grunzlers. If that doesn't convince you to go Tory, nothing will. That's when Elizabeth Merritch slammed the door and collapsed on the bed. Why? Who? Whispering pups? You tell me. It could be that oversized fleshlight named Graceful Jenny which was at the breaking point not from girth but from overusage as

AttributesValues
rdfs:label
  • Wilson Carter
rdfs:comment
  • Wilson Carter knew nothing about baseball. But that didn't stop him from signing up for pitcher at Ruggles Academy. It was dinnertime. A lone wolf eats a babydoll made of cabbages. Etc etc etc. In other words, the town crier was out of a job. This meant no more spring water for the village. No more soup for Old Yimmy. Not even a sop for Hamster the striped ferret blind in one eye. What does this all mean? It means our city is turning into a hitchhouse for bellomed swavers and snorpitious grunzlers. If that doesn't convince you to go Tory, nothing will. That's when Elizabeth Merritch slammed the door and collapsed on the bed. Why? Who? Whispering pups? You tell me. It could be that oversized fleshlight named Graceful Jenny which was at the breaking point not from girth but from overusage as
dcterms:subject
abstract
  • Wilson Carter knew nothing about baseball. But that didn't stop him from signing up for pitcher at Ruggles Academy. It was dinnertime. A lone wolf eats a babydoll made of cabbages. Etc etc etc. In other words, the town crier was out of a job. This meant no more spring water for the village. No more soup for Old Yimmy. Not even a sop for Hamster the striped ferret blind in one eye. What does this all mean? It means our city is turning into a hitchhouse for bellomed swavers and snorpitious grunzlers. If that doesn't convince you to go Tory, nothing will. That's when Elizabeth Merritch slammed the door and collapsed on the bed. Why? Who? Whispering pups? You tell me. It could be that oversized fleshlight named Graceful Jenny which was at the breaking point not from girth but from overusage as they tend to deteriote after being soaked in lye water. Do what you want. I don't care. I'll be in the barn feeding the termites Devil Juice. Peace.
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