Spamoscope

From: Bernadette Welsh

The doorbell rang, Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair

In front of the portrait’s hole.
In front of the moonlight.
In front of the king of beers
Hatreds smile faded off his face.
Was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was teethe crooked nose of that
Smuggle-loving fool from morning until night.

Contributed by: Saint Ofle

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