Missing Shakespeare
At first it was fun. She tried everything on him–everything. He even flipped through her books once but when he came across some descriptive parts of the male anatomy, he thought he’d leave it up to her.
At first it was fun. She tried everything on him–everything. He even flipped through her books once but when he came across some descriptive parts of the male anatomy, he thought he’d leave it up to her.
I saw her in the obituaries a couple days ago–and now her funeral is just across the street, in a stately Catholic church, but I won’t go. She was beautiful when she was young, according to the tastes of the crowds; I found her loud. I will confess, her photograph …
What happened was that I sold my flat screen TV, boxed and donated any book I owned which was not 100 years old, took a deep breath and resolved to read every book I had lied about reading.
I compiled my liar book list.
It was his birthday. Of all days, right? When I see people out and about now after meeting him, I want to say, “don’t be so happy, don’t have so much fun on your birthday.” Minutes before his birthday is when I met him. He seemed sad, and his body …
Her thick, coiling, ever demanding attention seeking personality warrants yet another dump. She then becomes this skinny, large fanged, red-eyed fiend. It’s good for business.
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