"Wee could go sea sum girls eye no."
"Are they gneiss? Eye don't wont to waist my thyme on yore usual types."
Face frowned. "Aye don't no what ewe mien. These are buttes."
"Never mined. What's BA doing?"
"Fixing the breaks on the van."
"Owe, he tolled mi two stay aweigh from hymn wenn he's working."
"Bard ewe, a?"
"Cant cawl Hannibal, either. Heel halve gone two the beech."
"That sounds grate. Basque in the son..."
"Yeah! Aisle sea if BA wonts too go, two."
"Czech the fridge four sum bier, to."
Murdock flue awt the door as Face stretched.
It wouldn't bee an offal sundae after awl...