Wording For Welcome Baby Party Invitations

Who's That Man?

Vincent Valentine Gauntlet Pepakura

Life ...

The sharing of time is just a point of contact, a chance encounter. Each of us along this time with all its differences, with all its peculiarities. Everyone is a world apart. We are pilgrims of time, concentrate on our own existence in spite of. A multitude of solitudes that cross that "interact" but retain their uniqueness. ... A beginning and an end in the middle of sharing important or trivial, lightning or sustained, to be our own.

Unless

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Who's this boy? Damn

What Did Deborah Sampson Do

Vintage

Damn

year I was a window cleaner who whistled

ants I saw below me and a window cleaner

whistling in the face on the glass.

The height is not a problem, you get used to. Issa

the table, pulls the rope, take it higher.

Done.

spray, stick and rinse

Done. Damn

year, so every day. Issa

the table, pulls the rope to take it higher.

Whistles, sings, sips the whiskey, so you take it. Damn

year, so every day. Issa

the table, pulls the rope, take it higher.

thirty-seventh floor, I'm easy, so I can stand.

But now I found that I can fly, that the ants are a few billion

and moccasins are not right for work.

Damn vintage, the 2010

Do Men Wear Women's Panties

Clean ...

Four stars hairpieces to greet me ... hanging from the sky like thumbtacks. The house seems deserted ... it seems. In recent years I have learned that nothing is ever as it seems at first sight. What a fucking situation ...

I receive assignments with the information I needed ... just the essentials. I do not want to know anything about that somehow keeps me tied to the matter of which I am. Within the old Mat, I take the envelope that I leave and go away ... all within seconds. Quick and clean ... not a chance I call Clean.

spit chewing gum wrapped in paper that, I take a ball and placed it on the dashboard. I went down, I leave the door open and the light switch the car off the mark. I do around the house ... no sign of life. Breath, I know that someone is alert beyond these walls of rough wood ... do not you take your neighbor's wife without having a minimum of "embarrassment" for what you are doing. The woman in question is one of the whores Slim ... saw something last night and is gone. Some mouth in search of easy bucks has spilled all over their "owner" of the goods and I'm here to solve the problem.

Quick and clean ...

The back door was ajar just stinks ... butt of a mile away. Does anyone know 'to receive visits and plans to fuck the fucking guest in this way. Fucking assholes ... and amateurs. There is no respect in this fucking world. Using a 22 silenced, I do not need too much power. On the back of the shed, a small structure that serves as a shed, I suggest the solution. Barefoot, I walk on the roof of the little hut of wood. Silent as a shadow by the window upstairs. ... Darkness is the darkness that comes to visit you, my little bad guys. Clack, flying on my right side and a rolling thunder gust, tells me that these assholes I'm not that stupid. Finish the somersault and three flop shot on the beams that hold the roof. A dull sound of a body goes limp. From below, shouting and shooting randomly at my feet. I get on the lifeless body of the "pigeon" and I crouched around ... hell. I take a chewing gum, the waste and put it in your mouth. Chew slowly ... I relaxes the nerves. Splinters of wood everywhere and whistles of high-caliber bullets that touch me. Silence ... dust and cordite smoke fill the air. The wool I have in my nose filters the air in an acceptable way ... never come without a little 'cotton for the nose in a dusty farmhouse where someone is waiting to make you armed your ass. I feel ... seems to be the first entries in three ... you can see the volume of fire just now. Silent Way towards the stairs where they came from. Granata line ... ... chewing gum. They are out the window. Jump to earth as quiet as a cat. By the back door that left turn. "Hey assholes ... flop flop ... fuck that ass.

I see the girl, bound and hooded head back on us ... the chair as a shield. The explosion is not strong, but the pieces of shit flying everywhere.

Ok ... done. I take the girl leaving her bound and hooded in my head ... I do not trust a bitch. Are shed from the car while the 'light at night.

No trace ... Clean.

Except ...

2010 Specialized Crossroads

Rain ...

I'm sitting on this fucking milestone in the middle of nowhere on that sunny street. I look at the feet of my bag. A storm is coming ... I know. The clouds from the mountains behind me to go off with their load of shit on this plain, overthrow the end of the world between lightning and thunder. Appearance and contemplate the horizon waiting for a small cloud of dust that signals the end of waiting. A front-page newspaper flutters slowly to my feet. I lift the boot block and the sheet. A fool kills motorists on roads that have the misfortune to give a lift to the monster. A slight breeze brings to my nostrils the scent of wet earth rise on the boots ... and the monster of the provincial flies off behind my back to the storm. A slight hum on my head gives confirmation to what I thought. I settle on his hat and wearing a long raincoat. The light takes on a strange pigment and much of the sky changes color. Lead Lead ... sky, low and bad. A small cloud of dust on the horizon gives me an adrenaline rush. Soon I will have company. A few large drops of rain crashing on my hat I cracking. A mighty thunder shook the air around me. The car is now visible. It starts raining thick. The rain always gives me a hand, shake the minds of those who are to protect the passenger compartment. I poor traveler, in that time ...

... I do not look at the camera slows down, pulls me close to a crawl while the flashes above the roar of thunder that stops the machine. You can not go more than a poor under this wrath of God on ... Stop ... stop reverse light off. I have to laugh ... shit.

The car stops next to me. The window goes down and a guy with glasses getting me screams that gives me a lift to the first station service.

thank and smile. Two lightning without thunder this time. A horn sounds and that a trickle of blood coming down abundant along the temple of the type with glasses that have now been shattered.

I sniff the air and watch the horizon ... "thank you ... but I like the rain "...

The rain becomes lighter and closer to the mountains and in the distance behind me, you can barely hear the horn ...

Unless ...