A trill echoed in the mind of George awakening from his troubled sleep. The hangover of the night before he fell in his head as un'aceta on the trunk of wood. "Wine of shit" he thought to himself while preparing to pick up the phone. "Come now is urgent" thunder a voice on the other side of the receiver.
barely rose out of bed to go to the bathroom, "I need a good fucking bitter coffee!" He said.
reappeared in the minds and memories dim uneven. With a slight smile, she saw her vomiting on the shoes of the girl who was with him "was not even much, never mind, "he said.
The preparations were always an occasion for reflection and convictions, his life was now marked by work and alcohol. "A shitty job leads to a life of shit" is always justified, more than anything to not be aware of his state of inveterate alcoholics. The reality was no longer understandable, the result of alcohol that saturates his veins.
"Hey Gio, what the hell have you done?" Said the same voice he heard on the phone "you seem to be run over by a train," he laughed.
"Stay calm," he thought, "You know I met your sister back home, nice '
"Thanks," he retorted.
"What the fuck you thank me asshole" said his mind much disturbed by dementia.
"We have a gift for you in Via dei Condotti, I would recommend is the matter with the utmost discretion."
"Okay Franco!" He said.
"Fuck," echoed his mind.
Get in the car thinking back to his eleven years on the streets to get an ass like a hut and then take orders from the first graduate of the CEPU shit.
"C'est la vie" he whispered.
"Hello Gio, throws you bad see!"
"Hello old man, you stay in shape? What the fuck have we here? The usual junkie overdose? "
" No Giò, see for yourself "
S 'bowed and lifted the sheet that covered the helpless figure" DICK! "He said.
WMC
WMC
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