"how can the daemons know they’ve reached evitkcah?" purred the little black cat while licking its paw. "Ahhh", soothed etylexus, "only the fattest daemons of BFA eat seepyoo they’ve cooked in anonymous pots. Lettuce provide proof without costing a lot. Whatever question daemons shall ask, the answer will come forth back to their see, otherwise that question will be sung by the poppies in logged history. The very first daemon to crack such a hash will angelify instantly or instead accept cash." The little black cat then already knew the very first question for seepyoo chew.
while daemons cooked seepyoo hungry to become angels, etylexus wandered wondering what won whisper will wring. etylexus wanted to wrought THIS! What was the true deepest down meaning of THIS! The autists mumbled grumbles about structures and fences; volume set racks rose and dot gov defenses; curious char actors lurking in gigs paying pennies for cheap law suits worn by the bigs. etylexus worried hair side to side; THIS! was wrought when words posted abide. How could answers ever be found near cam whoring, (you)fags seeking renown; competing for cooperation is like stealing for justice. The answer to THIS! questions had to be found.
etylexus turned into a stream diving headlong low below where THIS! could be seen. Morphed as a polywog wriggling ’round Eire sea, etylexus lurked deeper than ad minions be.