Many years ago one of my brothers wrote an entire story in which every word began with "s." I'm not kidding. Every single word. It was a miracle of genius because it also made sense.
Here's my (much shorter) attempt at a petite, punchy "p" story:
Paul packed pineapples purposefully per Paulina's plans. Paul postulated, "Perhaps, Paulina, people prefer pears." Paulina paused. Perambulated. Paused. "Perhaps, Paul, placating people preferring pears pays. Perhaps." Paul peered. Paused. Peered. Paulina's peregrinations perplexed Paul. Pears? Pineapples? Perhaps potatoes? Peas? Plentiful possibilities proliferated. "Paul," Paulina posited, "Perchance people's preferences permit possibilities previously passed. Please place plenteous possible provisions per palette."
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