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babelfish translation of blindsheep's post: ;)
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it was once faeyh named herbie. rose one in the morning from its cardboard, over glad courage its fate, which lit up death in a dark, strongly from a sodium-vapor lamp, only in a direction passable one-way street, to escape after it to most thorough manner its muesli in a light sheep wanting excerpt solution up-soft has leaves, made it itself on away to to Antwerp, around there next the dreibeinige queue kiew erhaschen. there arrived, the Schaffner zuwinkend, and at the station kiosk toward output by-sauntering, even that unbelievably strengthen wollfaden themselves noticing, on most eloquente, but in no keinster wise importunate manner from the master meisterschmiede, which was solemnly opened only recently, rolls, saw it surprisingly the nice, umgaenglich working (nevertheless by no means erotische) nut/mother of 8 nice children, whom the even play being business on the other roadside had attacked. in its excitement it had knocked against its left nose wing at the strongly frequented bus stop of the line 23 of the local transporting enterprises.
of it completely unbeeindruckt, he set its away to the local escalator, beside the 30th stick, away from far saw already he the glad-luring, yellow-reddish lighting up lighter, which glueckseligkeit with promising label " pumice country " was provided by this lighter attracted, accelerates it slowly going its course immediately after the facilitating (however nevertheless due to a bad ureter inflammation painful direct) anurinieren the lighter saw it from itself on the left of opening, sardinenbuechsen foermigen door the small, but out-shoot relatively korpulentes creature of the insanity slow. " krawehl! krawehl! ", if the creature said before herbie these words understood, it already continued: " ginst deaf to musenhain! ". now herbie understood fast, and spoke the second part of the secret secret record from the secret secret language of the secret federation of the pumice countries: " musenginst cloudy-deaf hain to! ".
now the promiseful words were spoken, and there was nothing and nobody, which could still have stopped herbie, when it the creature to shed pulling into the sardinenbuechsenfoermige door rolled. now, from the smell of burned mustard tubes, everywhere common in the pumice country, and died to soil cleverly, herbie, benefitful into the sight a grey, overwhelms yellowish sounded and still backpack almost under age deepens, at a coronary catch. and if it did not die, then yields its muesli still today.
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