[ WP ] Write about whatever you want , but use as many unnecessary adjectives as possible .

Perplexed at a pervading giddy sense of horrid, impure and rather demonstrative irony, Gillian strapped the reddish unadulterated explosives merrily about her thin, pleasant waist. Above her ran the endless, peering green streaks prominent in this polluted and over-populated, defeated planet. Some called hers a perilous predicament, a pathetic proliferation of a problem prolonged beyond the pedigree of her people. 
 
 She did n't care. She knew what she had to do. 
 
 Long, pressurized hours passed and she found herself standing upright and taut as a candlestick staring bleakly and without remorse at her tantalizing and tepid target. Terrible as it were, her terrific torture at the tormented hands of the Mongrids, with their tangential tendency to talk tediously and without termination as they tether you and tickle you to a tiresome death, was enough to transmute thoughts of tyrannical revenge even through a torpid torso rendered meager by their tenacious touching. 
 
 And they told her all, the babbling fools. 
 
 For her and her kind, the human kind, righteous real redemption was at hand. Mongrids would soon learn verily the voracious vivacity with which she's vying for her kind's voluminous vendetta. 
 
 This planet used to be blue. Today, Gillian would fulfill her destiny. 
 
 She tucked in her tattered shirt, concealing the consummate compounds cradled at her wily waist. 
 
 She walked into the Mongrid Denny's, and pushed a button. 
 
 

