Alliteration story
An armada of angry kitchen applications alternate along an armored artillery arrangement. They activate an aggressive anti-aircraft artillery attack. A battle as bad as a bowl of broiled broccoli, the bullets bounce off of the ballistics barracks just before it began bombarding the battalion. Chaos crumbles the corrosive kitchen creations. The core has corrupted and the cult of the creations cautiously crashed to a complete cease. Dinner is destroyed due to the devastating dive bombers. The dishes duck in the drain for defense from the dirty Derringers. The destructive deep-fryer defused the diving death bringers. The evil eggbeaters erupted and ecstatically eviscerated the earthenware, thus ending the early entanglement to the east. Though elusive evade excitement, for there’s a further frightening fight forward.
“Fear not, those foul forks will flee for the falls,” the first classmen figured. Guns grinded and glaives gnashed.
The General granted, “Go, Go, Go!”
The Oven-glove gargled at the horrified hesitant infantry. It initiated an injurious implement. The infantry were far too inferior…They jumped, were jammed, and jabbed off their jimmies all from a crudy caramel crusher. “They could learn karate!” cried Commander Kevin. “Lies,” the lieutenant laughed. “Let us live, and lose later. Manage your mana and maybe many may manacle those minion-mashing mongrels!” The microwave mooed and many matched in a mass march to the mast of the multitude. Microwave was met by the Marmalade Marines. Mashed… the mob became no more. The gnarly kitchen knick-knacks knew the necromancers number.
“O’ mighty one, Overlord of the Olive Oils, do the opposite of obstruct the young oven, operate our ally. Obtain the operation of our over-important object.” As put in pronouncement, in particle protection the pieces piled up.
“Don’t cry to the Quran now classmen. Have confidence to clash for our cradle of the kitchen! Check the chaos of this corrupt kingdom! Claim
“Fear not, those foul forks will flee for the falls,” the first classmen figured. Guns grinded and glaives gnashed.
The General granted, “Go, Go, Go!”
The Oven-glove gargled at the horrified hesitant infantry. It initiated an injurious implement. The infantry were far too inferior…They jumped, were jammed, and jabbed off their jimmies all from a crudy caramel crusher. “They could learn karate!” cried Commander Kevin. “Lies,” the lieutenant laughed. “Let us live, and lose later. Manage your mana and maybe many may manacle those minion-mashing mongrels!” The microwave mooed and many matched in a mass march to the mast of the multitude. Microwave was met by the Marmalade Marines. Mashed… the mob became no more. The gnarly kitchen knick-knacks knew the necromancers number.
“O’ mighty one, Overlord of the Olive Oils, do the opposite of obstruct the young oven, operate our ally. Obtain the operation of our over-important object.” As put in pronouncement, in particle protection the pieces piled up.
“Don’t cry to the Quran now classmen. Have confidence to clash for our cradle of the kitchen! Check the chaos of this corrupt kingdom! Claim