Swanocerosman

By Joseph Mondrella

About the Book
Swanocerosman is a tale wilder than a snail or bumblebees, and along with puddles, trees. In the wild, going crazy lengths is a normality; why, there’s no way to be safely prey is named mortality. It’s gist unalike a lost cause or a prob’d hit the spot like what’s in a non-distant teapot, Philly cheesesteaks or, in addition to grilled cheese, sweet shakes. It reeks of grim things, a so dang poetic fetish, and it’s crystal initial-hearter’s artwork. So while it’s no secret lions protect their much-less feared young; what this neat fiction’s depictin’s are qualities in nature that’ve stuck out like some clouds which’re very much out plus about, or an undead deer’s tongue.
About the Author
Fact’s the need for love sculpted me, and the need for what’s quality. For a decade who I’m’s been lonely, & did box/kickbox since it’s straight true I’ve been lose-my-head lonely. Stuff I so’ve did isn’t cliché, much like a Covid victim’s sick pay. Based on how understandable, my cover’s tactical. Like a sheltered feller, what I come after’s vital matters. I can’t put pleasure over a good measure; otherwise, a struggler cries. Real adroit, I’ve had tears of joy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jun 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781637648223

Book preview

PROLOGUE: A TALE’S WEIGHTED BASIS 

Once upon a time, an escapee dropped a dime. The dragoneaglephant lost control, of who became useful like an undone mole. The slothmoth somehow found a route all the way out of the wicked-hellish realm, he luckily got to what, along with enjoy how his situation embellished? Whelm. The dragoneaglephant and his mean crews were out trying to capture ones they’d been imprisoning and eating too when his pet hogdog was holdin’ the key to the slothmoth’s cell in his mouth; it dropped it to chow and accidentally kicked it within an awakened, desperate soul’s reach, plus regarding utilizing it, a grateful one knew how. It was a possible yet unlikely escape; later on, when freed, he spoke to Swanocerosman and his ligergiraffe about the sickening lair’s details and about how he couldn’t find it in his power to rescue Goosepotamuswoman or others, such as the henape. There was a sense of a must-do in the air; luckily for the helpless ones, the activists were no stingy pair; they were up for what cowards’d call a tremendously terrifying huh, as if they weren’t sissies? Scare. The right individuals knew they had to settle the score; they felt as if they were the only ones who could keep who became a huge problem to them from meddling more. Swanocerosman knew rescuin’ his companion , would be dangerous but not as much as a human jumpin’ off the ledge of a discussed canyon. Getting in the way of a beloved bond, and seeking karma correspond, the following tale certainly entails a mission worth its risk of spilling entrails. 

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Dragoneaglephant

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Slothmoth

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Hogdog

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Ligergiraffe

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Goosepotamuswoman & The Henape

Chapter One: The Realm of Dead Love 

Goosepotamuswoman was on her own, preying without shotgun shells on bugzelles; the dragoneaglephant stumbled upon her the second she robbed one of life just to taste what’s tasteful while unable to make jambalaya stew; that was the exact moment she dismally had went frigidly missing, since like ducks on a pond to a threat she would have needed help conquering was how she was deficiently/explicitly sitting. Bein’ that he painfully/sorrowfully still missed his mate, Swanocerosman had barely any time to anticipate, since he no longer wondered the reason she happened to unexpectedly dissipate. His ligergiraffe was about to prove himself to be a grand partner to have during the escapade; they both needed it carried out more than lemonade stands need to sell lemonade. They knew by the time they would have went the entire distance, they would had to have refueled often enough so that way they’d have the best possibility of not getting schooled. Not caring to be on the right foot surely as much as a grateful reader that thankfully read a footer, was what came back to haunt souls before like eating by far too much cane sugar. Since it was a cold world with no ice age sprees,  every breathing survivor knew darn well that fast ones were pulled before almost like daisies. There were those in need of what’s wet as streams; there were places to not want to have dreams. Things just died like in the ocean; hunting did the trick like a busy potion. Withdrawals meant obtaining not enough vital resources was what’d cause mental pain. Natures, have always been nature’s. Since Swanocerosman’s ligergiraffe couldn’t fly, they had to travel