The Chicken Wing Newspaper Onion Pie walked down the sky lane path between the Gumdrop Steakfry forest and the Motor Oil Lizerd King Lake. He sang a song of a sky car twinkie and visted the moon of the third jawbreaker near the baked potato berry. He smelled the magic french fried pineapple shurbert and noticed the stars of maple cheese. He asked himself why are we here to live milk transmission orange napkin cola lives, why do we camera our lifesavers in an M&M float of fruity shiney goodness, and what then when the lowest mountain has been traversed by a strawberry penny cloud and the deepest jello shot sea has been explored by the pickle boat of monkey pants? What of these mysterious monkey pants and he hoobajoob wearer of the diamond studded blow pop? The Chicken Wing Newspaper Onion Pie stared at the molasses library oat cluster sky and thought about the disco lased bowling ball cassette that we call life... and he smoked a joint oh so fine
