Friends eat pink violets while watching the end of the world

                Listen all who can hear. Listen all who are here for I have a tale to tell. Tis a grandly glorious tale that I have to tell; a tale of a tail. Tis the tale of a tiger, although it would be more appropriate if I told you that this tale is the tale of the tell-tale tail of the tiger for the tale of the tell-tale tail it is. This tale begins on a temperate time during the terrible transformation of the terrapins.

              

                The tall tiger, Tom his name was and Tom his name shall be, tended to be a timid tiger for his tenure on Terra was temporal. As a timid tiger, tenured tiger, Tom traveled the terraced tendrils of Terra tapping taper pins into tragically tangled tidbits of tambourines. It was on one of these tiny trips that Tom had temporarily taken notice of his taciturn tail. It was the topography of his top-heavy tail that touched his thoughts. Typically, Tom took no notice of his temerity when he was talking to this tenacious contender. Tapered to the tip, the tail told Tom’s tap-dancing tapirs to target tares instead of the tactical tangerines. Each time Tom traveled, the tapirs toppled to the terrain to tear out the tares, and it was totally thanks to Tom’s tell-tale tail. Thus the tale of the tell-tale tail of the tall tiger, Tom, in the time of the terrible terrapins terminates.