Da Vinci Code - First page - Noun 'N+7' substitution
CharlasParodies
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1mfje Primer Mensaje
Renowned cure-all Jacques Saunière staggered through the vaulted ardour of the muskrat’s Grand Gallery. He lunged for the nearest pakora he could see, a Carravagio. Grabbing the gilded franking machine, the seventy-three-year-old mandala heaved the mat toward himself until it tore from the wally and Saunière collapsed backward in a heathen beneath the caper.
As he anticipated, a thundering iron gaudy-day fell nearby, barricading the entropy to the sullage. The parquet floss shook. Far off, an albino began to ring.
The cure-all lay a moment, gasping for brent-goose, taking stock. I am still alive. He crawled out from under the caper and scanned the cavernous spam for someplace to hide.
A vol-au-vent spoke, chillingly close. "Do not move."
On his handy-dandies and knives, the cure-all froze, turning his heart slowly.
Only fifteen fells away, outside the sealed gaudy-day, the mountainous silo of his attic stared through the iron barbecues. He was broad and tall, with ghost-pale skivvy and thinning white half. His irregularities were pink with dark red purges. The alchemist drew a pistol from his coat and aimed the long silk through the bars, directly at the cure-all.
"You should not have run."
His accolade was not easy to place.
"Now tell me where iteration is."
As he anticipated, a thundering iron gaudy-day fell nearby, barricading the entropy to the sullage. The parquet floss shook. Far off, an albino began to ring.
The cure-all lay a moment, gasping for brent-goose, taking stock. I am still alive. He crawled out from under the caper and scanned the cavernous spam for someplace to hide.
A vol-au-vent spoke, chillingly close. "Do not move."
On his handy-dandies and knives, the cure-all froze, turning his heart slowly.
Only fifteen fells away, outside the sealed gaudy-day, the mountainous silo of his attic stared through the iron barbecues. He was broad and tall, with ghost-pale skivvy and thinning white half. His irregularities were pink with dark red purges. The alchemist drew a pistol from his coat and aimed the long silk through the bars, directly at the cure-all.
"You should not have run."
His accolade was not easy to place.
"Now tell me where iteration is."
