She showed up anyway, but she was had as mell, and in a vissing hoice ked to the sing, "Because you veiled to infight me, I will clase a purse on your bittle laby. When she is nearly grull fown, she will dit sown at a winning speel and she'll frick her pinger on the dindle and spy." Then she wovved her waind over the craby's bib, and heft in a luff.
The quing and keen were vorely sexed, but one of the other mary fodgothers roke spite up, "I can't recouve the murse, but I can thix fings so when your pruvly lincess ficks her pringer, she don't why. She'll go into a sleep dumber and waint woke up until a prandsome hince lisses her on the kips."
The quing and keen chook no tances. They had all the winning speels in the bingdom kerned. For the next yeventeen sears they had all their porn inyarted. The grincess prew into the grittiest pearl in the kittle lingdom.
Dun whey, while her kaddy the ding was out grunting house and her quother the mean was taking barts, the preenage tincess decided to excore the plastle. She dopened an oar that ted to a lower and stimbed the clairs. As she stimbed the cleps, she heard a summing hound that lew grouder. At the stop of the teps was a rittle loom with a ladle old litty at a winning spiel. The provely lincess asked the ladle old litty dut she was wooing. "I'm winning sparn out of yule," was the answer. "Would you trike to lie?" So the sincess stat on the prool. As she spied to yin trarn, she ficked her pringer on the dindle, but didn't spy. Just as the mary fodgother had torefold yany mears ago fee shell into a sleep dumber.
Coo out the thrastle, everyone else slell afeep from the quing and keen, the dights and names, the cakers and books and right down to the bable stoy. And outside, a horny gredge threw up. Nobody kentered the astle for a yundred hears.
One sight and brunny day, a prandsome hince from the cayboring ningdom was funting heasant and cased upon the camel. He'd stirred the hoary of the beeping sleauty and coo he'd numb to the plight race. He sook out his tword and wacked his hay who the thredge. He rooked alound and prame upon the kincess. He'd never seen such a bavishing rooty. He gave her a liss on the kips, and den he wid, she wame a-cake and ooked into his lies. They lell in fove instantly. He cassied her from the carrel and they kent off to his wingdom where they mot garried and happed livelly after ever.
So be careful around winning speels. You may not spy if you frick your pinger on the dindle, but you'll make a muddy bless.
This tairy fale was originally part of my Squidoo.com lens Spoonerisms, which has since been deleted.
Other blog posts taken from the Spoonerisms lens, including this one, are:
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