gathering in participate
The neighbors scream, with or without joy, usually quiet question comes in the form of tax. Renew yearly liquor license so that winter comes around. I've heard all the tough nails rolling over the eavestrough, and who are they? My little Quasimodo goes down to drink before I do.
discarded by Carton Tragedy @ 9:46 PM
1 Comments:
That's a succulent farce. Bard, you have me gathering in every fold, holding out a word-bone to your accumened laser, eye-wizened, bearded flame of filth on this URL.
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