ralphboats
03-16-2017, 09:33 AM
Predatory Chris Nolan
Rob England had always loved deprived Bangkok with its robust, round rivers. It was a place where he felt worried.
He was an admirable, courageous, whiskey drinker with fat thighs and fat spots. His friends saw him as a deadly, dull do gooder. Once, he had even helped a weary deaf person recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Rob walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. The rain hammered like jogging hamsters.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Chris Nolan. Chris was a predatory monster with charming thighs and sloppy spots.
Rob gulped. He was not prepared for Chris.
As Rob stepped outside and Chris came closer, he could see the red smile on his face.
"I am here because I want a fight," Chris bellowed, in a hilarious tone. He slammed his fist against Rob's chest, with the force of 4289 giraffes. "I frigging love you, Rob England."
Rob looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the solid guillotine. "Chris, I just don't need you in my life any more," he replied.
They looked at each other with confident feelings, like two flaky, faffdorking frogs hopping at a very sinister bar mitzvah, which had indie music playing in the background and two noble uncles bouncing to the beat.
Rob studied Chris's charming thighs and sloppy spots. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you a fight," he explained, in pitying tones.
Chris looked sparkly, his body raw like a kindhearted, kaleidoscopic knife.
Rob could actually hear Chris's body shatter into 2856 pieces. Then the predatory monster hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Rob's nerves tonight
Considerate William Thornton
William Thornton was thinking about Gemma Willis again. Gemma was a charming elephant with brown hands and pretty toenails.
William walked over to the window and reflected on his backward surroundings. He had always loved old-fashioned Paris with its magnificent, many mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sad.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a charming figure of Gemma Willis.
William gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a considerate, admirable, port drinker with pretty hands and sloppy toenails. His friends saw him as a scrawny, shivering saint. Once, he had even helped a weary old lady recover from a flying accident.
But not even a considerate person who had once helped a weary old lady recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Gemma had in store today.
The moon shone like singing frogs, making William sparkly. William grabbed a damp teapot that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As William stepped outside and Gemma came closer, he could see the red smile on her face.
"I am here because I want a fight," Gemma bellowed, in a bold tone. She slammed her fist against William's chest, with the force of 4289 rabbits. "I frigging love you, William Thornton."
William looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the damp teapot. "Gemma, I'm in love with you," he replied.
They looked at each other with confident feelings, like two oily, obedient ostriches swimming at a very adorable holiday, which had indie music playing in the background and two greedy uncles swimming to the beat.
Suddenly, Gemma lunged forward and tried to punch William in the face. Quickly, William grabbed the damp teapot and brought it down on Gemma's skull.
Gemma's brown hands trembled and her pretty toenails wobbled. She looked shocked, her body raw like a ripe, roasted rock.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Gemma Willis was dead.
William Thornton went back inside and made himself a nice glass of port.
Rob England had always loved deprived Bangkok with its robust, round rivers. It was a place where he felt worried.
He was an admirable, courageous, whiskey drinker with fat thighs and fat spots. His friends saw him as a deadly, dull do gooder. Once, he had even helped a weary deaf person recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Rob walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. The rain hammered like jogging hamsters.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Chris Nolan. Chris was a predatory monster with charming thighs and sloppy spots.
Rob gulped. He was not prepared for Chris.
As Rob stepped outside and Chris came closer, he could see the red smile on his face.
"I am here because I want a fight," Chris bellowed, in a hilarious tone. He slammed his fist against Rob's chest, with the force of 4289 giraffes. "I frigging love you, Rob England."
Rob looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the solid guillotine. "Chris, I just don't need you in my life any more," he replied.
They looked at each other with confident feelings, like two flaky, faffdorking frogs hopping at a very sinister bar mitzvah, which had indie music playing in the background and two noble uncles bouncing to the beat.
Rob studied Chris's charming thighs and sloppy spots. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you a fight," he explained, in pitying tones.
Chris looked sparkly, his body raw like a kindhearted, kaleidoscopic knife.
Rob could actually hear Chris's body shatter into 2856 pieces. Then the predatory monster hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Rob's nerves tonight
Considerate William Thornton
William Thornton was thinking about Gemma Willis again. Gemma was a charming elephant with brown hands and pretty toenails.
William walked over to the window and reflected on his backward surroundings. He had always loved old-fashioned Paris with its magnificent, many mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sad.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a charming figure of Gemma Willis.
William gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a considerate, admirable, port drinker with pretty hands and sloppy toenails. His friends saw him as a scrawny, shivering saint. Once, he had even helped a weary old lady recover from a flying accident.
But not even a considerate person who had once helped a weary old lady recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Gemma had in store today.
The moon shone like singing frogs, making William sparkly. William grabbed a damp teapot that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As William stepped outside and Gemma came closer, he could see the red smile on her face.
"I am here because I want a fight," Gemma bellowed, in a bold tone. She slammed her fist against William's chest, with the force of 4289 rabbits. "I frigging love you, William Thornton."
William looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the damp teapot. "Gemma, I'm in love with you," he replied.
They looked at each other with confident feelings, like two oily, obedient ostriches swimming at a very adorable holiday, which had indie music playing in the background and two greedy uncles swimming to the beat.
Suddenly, Gemma lunged forward and tried to punch William in the face. Quickly, William grabbed the damp teapot and brought it down on Gemma's skull.
Gemma's brown hands trembled and her pretty toenails wobbled. She looked shocked, her body raw like a ripe, roasted rock.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Gemma Willis was dead.
William Thornton went back inside and made himself a nice glass of port.