ZOOEY, JACQUES, PAM: A TALE O' LOVE, A FAKE OX-HOAX, AND A BIG WAR

"Why Jacques? A fake one?!," Zooey yelled.

"Pam gave a robot, X, to bare vague my pied, lazy, new key, so qua Cujo! Haw haw," Jacques said.

Now Zooey got mopey.

"I have a broke fax Jacques, ao add a new zygote to my P.H. Villabrake fax."

Well, Jacques did do it before a hoax gave pezz a name key.

Yak, a verritable swami, hoped Jay, a cagey zen fox-queen, would prove this key's fizzy game a jab.

"Coax me," said zooey, "but I will a quip! Never fax a cake J.! Hog! Go! Ha! A joke?! A coax for a vane, opaquely witty buzz! Do some more Zen Jacques, see if I hug you!"

"B...b...but would you poke a vox ox?," Jacques asked, "name Pezz while a live ox got to be a fairy?"

"No," replied Zooey, "yet somehow if I give a box a quick jab before I release Pezz I'm... Hey, don't you go away J.Q., you cocky vexation!"

"Fuck you!" J.Q. zipped away.

"Males, a sore vogue box,"Zooey sighed in relief. "My book! Pizzazz! Wax a q-jam, I'm cut! Viva!," Zooey sang!

A hidden reel lay a leaf foamy. Maybe a kip-zoo? Wax? Aqua Jimmy? A cute t.v.? No, Jacques did it! Beak aflame, he gave a rope wax. Zooey viewed the reel fuming.

"Jesus! Back a pique! Xenophope!"

Zooey, wide-eyed, fell, broke a toe. She, among C. Java, a vex quip, slept.

Now, C. Java had a big, fake, rye quizmix. Zooey was in a bag. Java hid the plaque-mark fox,

"C.," Zooey said, "have you any keefer?"

"My quil-tip, baggy jaw wax, keefer?!," exclaimed Java.

"What's so big honey?," Zooey quipped.

"No more left. Have a wad o' jazzy soy quick, I beg of you agape ox!" Java fell to his knee.

"Wipe a merry quizzed cybogoxy!" Zooey yellped. "Where am I?! J.Q. is you about? Can I give a fax?"

"Ak, Zooey you' in a dream! Give a fax?! Who to? Jacques is a ploy."

"B...b...b...but he promised. Quick Java, boil wax fungi!," Zooey grunted sickly.

Zoom! Pow! Bix! Jye! Quifovha!

The sound gave a quick, rye pop. Wax flaze a jam.

"Boy am I pissed! Give the wax quick! Life! Ruin J!"

Zooey was flat-out happy. "Make a bomb Java! You can?"

"Nix, queer god! Be gone Zooey!" Java furiously hacked wax.

"Quiet Pam!"

Zooey awoke suddenly. J.Q., before Pam, gave hot ox.

"Coy of you Jacques. And Pamela? get out! Why? Oh hek! Bravo! I vex you!," Zooey exclaimed in horror.

"But I...we gave up Pezz. Zooey, a kiss fo' J.Q.?," Jacques lamented.

Zooey gave a box a whap.

"Faker!," she yelled. "Go fake out Pam!"

"Now Zooey, I care."

"A vibey box J.Q.," she grieved. "Fix a new bizz J.Q., my little kopec."

Zooey got a divorce, a new fax, shook blame.

"Yup J.Q., you sure are a coy male. You wait coy honey. Go buzz a puffy, fake ox dive."

Zooey joyfully lived with happiness, a queer ex game bookie. Casually doped, J.Q. wrote a five-book game on Zooey, a hoax. Zooey, furious, shot J.Q. in a cloudy dive, a pub.

"Go make a waxy ox Jacques!"

Zooey lived free in the wake.

A pub, a game, ex love gone mad. Jacques, Zooey, a fax, a power bookie, the dream of C. Java. A puzzling ox was a quick blow. Jacques, Pam, Zooey. A vague riff, a fake ox, and death.

The End