La Mort de Misogynie Ironique
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I have to post this quickly…I’m afraid I’ve been shot…and…I don’t have much time left. You have to understand, there was this tree, and it, it was impermeable. I can’t think of another way to say it except with thirteens. If I try to exclaim another sentiment, I’m afraid of the consequences, for myself and for Phantom Haste. But if every bright entrance can depict a shoulder to cry upon and fountain forth from it, I can’t deliver another cross. I came upon the ship too soon for it to matter, and now what crumbs have excellence been riddled with motes? Lessen the trance, she said, upon finding twelve - no, twenty - armaments in curbed. I sauntered over in a cocksure element, and imbibed whatforth I couldn’t from among the separate rates that occluded my memory from basking in her looks. “Tits!” I screamed as they blanked the hallway in street-screams that centered on an umbilical way of examining the world. Will these, my last words, solve my murder? Let it be known henceforth that this is axis!
Filed by wrestlingteam at July 19th, 2007 under podcast