I, Mr. Morty Fitz Addis, adept cox, dotty civvy, or bossy goop, agist my forty beefs not by a dry moor. A deek at mossy, copsy firs or aegilops, all my choosy beefs go in loops, moo at any ox or cow in a moot effort, or go do foxy biz, copy deers, alloy for a blotty hinny or a gimpy filly. Crux is, firry dells ain’t airy hills nor Alps, eh? I am afoot as I chivvy my beefs.
Dikkops chirr or fly in a bevy, a lory is below an aery. As bees buzz, I hoot a ditty. As an apt deist I deem low bloops by my belly arty, not dippy. My deity or abgott is Aegir, an eery ghost, as choppy as an eely flux. Not Amor, not my ally. Do I err, or am I lost in dry, hilly Aden? Lo, a fort! Adoors, a denty floosy, almost a chit! Most abuzz I am!
First, I moor my bitty dory at a boxy Benz or lorry, go in a dirty city by foot, buy all bijoux, hip art, glossy hoops, door knops, a bent hilt, or any gloppy berry goo in a chilly bin, dot, dot, dot.
“Ahoy, my doux Mrs.!” I begin. “I am Mr. Morty Fitz Addis, a cox or a civvy at most, not a goop.”
“Afty, I am Betty,” floosy begins, got an accent or is a jot coy.
I empty my loot box for Betty: a clotty cent, gory films, my first CD, a cello amp, an Emmy.
“My loot or booty befit a denty chit as a demo?” I pry. It flops.
“My boy Benny is an abbot,” mopy Betty beeps, “nor am I a hippy.”
I add dino eggs, beet, choy, dill chips, an eel’s fins, or a cory’s gills, dip it all in dry gin fizz. I hint at my eggy, ginny bevvy, empty it as I envy Abbot Benny for floosy Betty. It flops.
“My boss Dr. Josy Ann Delory is an abbess,” Betty adds, “nor am I a gipsy.”
“Deep fry all my forty beefs,” I beg Betty, “for a bit joy.”
“My cosy den is an abbey,” Betty chirrs.
“A bitty den,” I bet, “an adders’ coop, a fox sty!”
Choosy Betty deems my ego a bit dotty.
I go loopy for my joy, affix or knot my coxy chit by a belt as I access hips, belly, or booty below, annoy Betty a lot.
“Benny!” goosy Betty moos. “Billy Jr.! Abe, my ex! Or Horst!”
“Pssst!” I hiss at my divvy bint.
“Betty!” a boor in a filmy tux begins, no, boors à deux. “Him is beef?”
“Oops, my loss!” I cry.
“Boooh! Ey, cissy!” forty chippy boors hoot, abet Betty adoors.
First, I deny or accoy. Defy or diss a gimp. A deet: glory is ammo, a ginny or beery boost, not an ace. My fist agin all forty fit, beefy boors, no floppy imps, all hit or boot my chin, my ells, my belly, or below. Chop all my beefs. Ah, gory flux! Efflux, not afflux, my dopy ego, my low IQ! I abort, fix my achy chin.
My biopsy: I ail, ill I am. Got an abcess or a clot, lost cells, almost got an anopsy, got a dent in my loot box. A most lossy bill for my ego. I dehort: do not blot any denty floosy! Or deity Aegir, I abhor him! O Aegir, accept my floppy fist or gimpy foot or abs, not hips nor chins nor bent ells. Allot deep bins, fill in hoppy beer, or defy my hissy fit. Or go adopt loppy chimps. Adios!
*
This text consists entirely of abecedarian words, meaning that all the letters within each word are sorted alphabetically. It tells the story of a cattle farmer who falls in love with a nun and courts her unsuccessfully. In an attempt to violate her, he is heavily beaten by her brethren, which gives him reason to apostatize.
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