Jazzmin Flush (43)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (43)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush deliberately devoured another soft taco, hungrily inhaling the continuous, primal cravings of legal food, though never got horizontally-challenged; moreover, threw down the yummy, hard-shelled delish of Mexican cuisine, but slicing a cruel cut atop her oral cavity, knowing that the soothe of green tea would assist in inflicting tranquility upon the rising bacteria, not minding that the word "quack" was insidiously inflicted upon pristine physicians throughout American History, for their loving loyalty of Mother Earth's herbology rightfully stole away from designer drug companies having pseudo-politicians and demonic doctors boot-licking the crooked cash--all is such and is after the slave-making Industrial Revolution--God Bless it though, right?
   And Fredrica came upon Jazzmin's crunchy meal and blossoming companionship with rascally Rascal--Thomas' sister eagerly noticing the coydog girl's dog-like beauty, saying:  "Funeral arrangements for Girthy Gilda are in the works.  Thomas insists a simplistic burial in a modest, vampire-proof, wooden box, with a rose-petal forged Rosary wrapped around her eternal grip."
   "That sounds awesome."  Jazzmin Flush noted.  "Girthy Gilda will now feed the Earth, getting boldly burped beautifully into the forever folklore of an always risen Phoenix."