Joe had an idea.
Let's write a story from words on the scrabble board.
And so he wrote:
I woke one azul xmas morning in my crib.
My dermis was pocked due to creepy insect biters.
Nine waifs had a vile gig grinding suet from a hog,
and yet they thought this kind activity was in vogue.
No vendor could crawl into the kennel because it would
be to spendy to vacate it, no?
The nard was also too expensive - it cost a fin.
This fable ends with a sour note, that being ti because
the hat was not for ye.
