Villainess’s Sweet Everyday

Descend the bike, ignore the wandering, and point your palm toward heaven. French bread with a height of skyscrapers stretching out of it. I punch it into the drifting water. Pi! Bi! I also heard people say, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. The water was sucked up by French bread and disappeared, improving the disastrous atmosphere as well. Run by the fisherman. A hunter who removed a kehoke-ho and a spiral muffler. He put his upper body down and glanced at me. My hair and face are wet with water. Maybe because of the strange water earlier. Are you okay, I ask. Yeah, I barely drowned.