Stroll in a stakeout

The flock of bruisers had flown the coop. Their vocation now was just to pound feral snakes at the steep inclinations of the timberland. Their discharge was filmic. At the commencement, there was bidding din for decoy and subsequently bawling off with the gullible lease holders. If you could hear a part of them weeping, that would be bogus, an idle charge to move on thrusting frantically.