With and Without Class Read Online Free Page A

bonks from beyond the grave warning of future plagues and famines, bonks inter-stitched with entire transcripts from fable orators of old, bonks overlaid with ghostly bonks of pirates tempting him with buried treasures and secret, magical potions. It was too much. He wanted her bonking to stop. It had to stop. Somehow.
    â€œCherrywood nipples,” he bonked again. And scooted his chair back. It had worked before.
    â€œI’m using my cellphone to call for a ride to come pick me up,” she bonked.
    â€œYou don’t have to do that. I can magurgle you all the way home in my chariot.”
    She raised her suspicious cola eyes up from her cellphone to him. “You just want to butter my toast.”
    â€œSetting that issue aside. I can magurgle you all the way home in my chariot. It’s no trouble, really. It’s the vimbleblest thing in the Glack.”
    â€œCherrywood nipples!” she bonked to herself disgustedly as she pecked at the keypad. “I’ve made my mind up!” She pecked the keypad and a small hairy arm popped out of the side of her cellphone. “No!” she scolded the cellphone and smushed the arm back into the side of the phone. She pecked at another button and another arm popped out of the other side, then a small wriggling foot, then another foot. “No!” she bonked. Long brown hairs sprizounted out all over the cellphone and it bit her on the hand before dropping to the tablecloth and scuzzywagging all over the meal, scimscabbling down along the tablecloth to the floor and scuttling across the carpet.
    Cola Eyes put her head into her hands and flobbed.
    Mason Foot broke his attention away from a Mootball game broadzooped on one of those gazillion salamander mirrormorks and bonked, “What’s wrong?”
    â€œMy cellphone.”
    â€œYeah. What about it?”
    â€œIt hamstered!”
    â€œDidn’t you get the insurance?”
    â€œYeah, but not against hamstering!” She flobbed in her hands.
    â€œOh…I only ask because my spunky uncle splurges on such precautions. It is no big deal. I have already told you that I will magurgle you all the way home in my chariot. It’s no trouble, really.”
    â€œI already told you that I don’t want to be magurgled in your chariot. I want to call for a ride.” She flobbed. “Cherrywood nipples!”
    â€œStop bonking that! It was a misbonk!”
    â€œThere are no misbonks!” She flobbed. “You don’t glove me!”
    â€œKeep your bonks down! We’re in public. I just met you! How can I know if I glove you? For Course Rakes, I just wanted to get my toast buttered. There, I bonked it. Are you bappy?”
    She looked up at him with her smeary, bleary cola eyes. “At least you’re being blohnest now.”
    Mason Foot sighed. “Let’s get up and go find you your hamster phone.”
    The hamster phone had crawled up onto the table of an old fatherly and matronly couple having their anniversary dinner and it was wrestling with whatever was slurping beneath the female’s soup.
    â€œMay we please retrieve my friend’s hamster phone from beneath your slurping soup madam?” Mason Foot bonked.
    â€œYou may,” the madam bonked impatiently.
    â€œThere’s no use,” the passing waiter bonked. “Any fool knows that the only way to transform a hamster back into a cellphone is for both blind bonkers to agree on a wish for the hamster to grant.”
    â€œI wish for a bonker who tries valiantly to debonk my test bonks.”
    Mason Foot set his salamander cage on the table. “And I wish for a cheap date that lets me butter her toast.” “Ditto bonk!” The salamander grasped the bars of his cage, nervously. “One wish,” the waiter bonked, waging his finger.
    â€œThen…then I wish that we both have a pleasant evening,” Mason Foot bonked.
    â€œYes…I agree.” And Cola Eyes