down a sluice and into a martini glass with a frosty glean. We didn't care what the source was. We drew straws to see who would drink it first. I won. But I balked at the last

"No, no no. I can't have another turbulent Soul on my books. They can Save you somewhere else," said Pigman Carruthers ripping his short hairs out. "Try up the road in Whoville."

The only sound she heard was that of her ringing ears.

There's a Drift and Die, you know, and it believes in the truth from inside, and out.

the rest of conversation was even more unreal. the man from London was completely drunk and in 4 minutes he felt asleep. after a while Polly came and start crying: “why are you

Trump was the Prince That Had Been Promised. The cow had been fertilizing the land of the Trumplovers. But they didn't understand. They saw it as an insult for some reason. The cow

idn't know what mothballs were. 'those things you stick in your wardrobe! the white thingies!' I screamed losing my patience. The spirit could turn beyond exorcism at any point.

el agua vespertina alimenta los golpes invernales

Ежик бежит по тропе

I started to shiver in fear and cold sweat. I knew the risks but I still had high hopes that no one would discover the decapitated head in the back.

"You boys ain't from around here, are ya?" "I know enough to hide my pecker. He's a cinch in his next fight." But he said it in a salacious way that made me feel dirty for learing

heathen with my backwoods'ways A Cro-Magnon drugstore cowboy; Wanted for a ruckus in the back room the other night. But I'm innocent it was my evil twin, Sinclair Victor . Who has

lle mae in the coal bin while ma and pa siphoned off from the dregs of society. A society we all lived in.

Knee to the groin guy was telling a small audience how he got his nickname. Literally a knee to the groin. His real name was

ed himself in the tiny squirrel mirror in his bathroom. Both faces knew he would fail. He couldn't convince himself. The other squirrels will get their comeuppance and rue the day

I don't go anywhere, but I'm never still. In truth, I'm always somewhere else. When I'm here, I'm also there. C’mon try to eat the flesh. where are you going? San Francisco?

That was when I stumbled upon the rat. Remy the rat, to be precise. But in this universe, Remy was more than just a chef, he as also an assassin.

It was March 9, 2013; the hangover from my birthday was still vivid. It hit me like a gunshot. "I'm leaving you. your love for me is more than I want”. Now I could be reborn.

just spitting out words which seems to be weird but if I connect the dots are making sense, and if his words turn out right the castrophic about to happen the diseater will be so

lake of liquid. The skies grew grey and blue, as the weeds grew and grew. Always growing, quite inspiring. Through the bitter cold, the weeds were still there next spring.