"A pirate's sweat tastes like whiskey." I

"A pirate's sweat tastes like whiskey." I look at William (instead of drop kicking his chest) and say, "and you know this how?"
"Don't ask." He physically shivered as though the memory was enough to bring the taste back to his lips. "All you need to know is that if we can somehow bottle it, we'll be rich."
We decided that squeezing it into a bottle would be too difficult, so we built a bottle around it. "Does anyone have a cork?" Larry asked. "I'm all out," I said. "But I have a blas
Blastoise. Then he took out a Poke ball.
Inside of which was a genuine poke. With it he prodded innocent strangers on the street, raising cries & alarms, but Jake was not to be stopped. Unless of course, his nemesis, Det.
Ferdinand F. Flickstick ever raised his massive frame off his perpetually groaning desk chair at the station on the north side. But that old man hadn't made a case since Jake was
a small child. In fact, this Ferdinand F. Flickstick was so morbidly obese that his police badge had been lost under one of his many rolls of fat. Rumour had it that he had never
Been able to fit into his dream car, the 1973 Honda Civic that got 200 miles a gallon. It sat in his garage and was totally driveable! He refused to get rid of it, saying he would
rather die than give up his precious 1973 Honda Civic. One day a phonecall came, saying that the 70's called and that they want their car back. His car vanished in a puff of smoke
and decent music, leaving him stranded in the parking lot of an abandoned mall. The sky turned green, his phone was dead, and yet he had a strange kind of hope, and so he walked.

Started: 2012-02-24 17:30:31
Finished: 2016-04-24 19:56:55

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