text_original: The manager has already whittled a dozen daggers and they lie somewhere on a shelf, awaiting a coat of silver paint. On the tip of each he has bargained for a spot of red. Furthermore, he owns a pistol  a harmless, devicerated thing  and he pops it daily at any rogue that may be lurking on the cellar stairs.
text_transcription: OUR MANAGER HAS ALREADY WHITTLED A DOZEN DAGGERS AND THEY LIE SOMEWHERE ON A SHELF AWAITING A COAT OF SILVER PAINT ON THE TIP OF EACH HE IS BARGAINED FOR A SPOT OF RED FURTHERMORE HE OWNS A PISTOL A HARMLESS DEVICERATED THING AND HE POPS IT DAILY AT ANY ROGUE THAT MAY BE LURKING ON THE CELLAR STAIRS
phonemes: ðə mˈænɪdʒɚ hɐz ɔːlɹˌɛdi wˈɪɾəld ɐ dˈʌzən dˈæɡɚz ænd ðeɪ lˈaɪ sˈʌmwɛɹ ˌɔn ɐ ʃˈɛlf, ɐwˈeɪɾɪŋ ɐ kˈoʊt ʌv sˈɪlvɚ pˈeɪnt. ɔnðə tˈɪp ʌv ˈiːtʃ hiː hɐz bˈɑːɹɡɪnd fɚɹə spˈɑːt ʌv ɹˈɛd. fˌɜːðɚmˈɔːɹ, hiː ˈoʊnz ɐ pˈɪstəl ɐ hˈɑːɹmləs, dɪvˈaɪsɚɹˌeɪɾᵻd θˈɪŋ ænd hiː pˈɑːps ɪt dˈeɪli æɾ ˌɛni ɹˈoʊɡ ðæt mˈeɪ biː lˈɜːkɪŋ ɔnðə sˈɛlɚ stˈɛɹz.