Read aloud to enhance the effect! Try it, it will make you laugh!
Debbie decided to designate the Delicate Dahlia Delicatessen as her source for dairy and drinks. David, the manager, opened the deli at daybreak to the delight of his devotees, who worked the day shift at the Dialysis Discount Center for the Disabled. These shoppers dubbed David “the Dominator” for his daily diligence, and downright dedication to the downtrodden, who sometimes dozed in his doorway. David maintained his distance from the disbarred diplomats, who disagreed with David’s management dictums, and declared their disapproval. The doctors dodged a dialogue with David during a downpour that disabled a dozen ducklings, who were dragging a damp Dalmatian diagnosed with doghouse dementia.
The Double Duty Car wash on Division Street, next to the Doughnut Dinette, did a dandy business dousing Dodge Darts, and diagnosing distressed distributor disorders. The Dorsey twins, Danny and Darrell, owned the Double Duty as disciples of their dad, Dean, who did his darndest to discover the details about their dimples. He would disguise them as dwarves in diapers, who sang ditties by using dittos to repeat the verses and played them on dueling dulcimers. These diminutive divas sang during the Dreadlock Festival, in the dingy downstairs discotheque hosted by two deported disc jockeys. Dancers disrobed on the dais, and after divesting their duds, distributed dishware to the distinguished guests.
On occasion, Debbie would sit on her davenport, and while dictating databank entries, chew on a dromedary date, and wait for her daydreams to determine her demeaner. Debbie also dabbled in diaries and datebooks; delving discreetly into the delicate dialogues of the town’s debutantes and dowagers. To distance herself from that distasteful duty, she donated her time as a docent to the degenerates in the deep dark dungeons of debtor’s prison.
Debbie sipped a decaf before delving into decoding documents for the deaf, to determine if the decibel levels were dangerous. At the nursing home for Declining Dallas Gamblers, she would deal double deck canasta after the dinner dishes were cleared, and the daiquiris were being dispensed. The patient’s diagnosed with Dobson’s Dementia were treated with doses of decongestants, to ward off depression and the debilitating fear of deadbolt locks. Doctors debated the deaf disorder and devised a downscaling of donations from disc jockeys decked out in distressed denim. The doctors claimed they were deceived by overdoses of dextrose and decomposing dairy products, delivered by Daphne’s Day Traders, who did their darndest to divide the daydreamers from the deadbeats.
Debbie was designated “Deaf Den Mother”; and among her duties she would fire her Derringer to start the Decathlon for Dalmatian Dogs. It was a race to determine the difference in their ability to deliver Deli delights, while avoiding the detours to their destination. The dogmatic Dalmatians were optimistic as they dogtrotted the track, avoiding the doglegs, raced past the dogwoods, dodged the dognapers, and raced for the finish line. A documentary deal was done to defray the debt and debentures, as a result of deprogramming by Debbie’s sorority, Delta, Delta, Delta. Future doubters would demonize Debbie’s defiance of the “Defenders of Dalmatians Society” and demand her dismissal as Director of Dalmatian Dogma. Debbie lived on surviving by playing dominoes for dummies with a dozen players at one time. The Dalmatian debate continued for decades.