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scribbles of a mad mans head.
i think im going to try to keep up with this one, but im not sure if i can.
anyways, as you know, i am a poet/writer/artist. well cant be all of em, or atliest good at all of em, so dont expect diamonds and gold, but i will post my works.
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if love was a plane, nobody would fly |
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3nodding 3nodding 3nodding 3nodding 3nodding im so gawd damn exited for my new toon!
3nodding so this little crafty b*****d would love to give you a look see at my first post in the arena. heres the link: meh first picture oh meh newest toon biggrin now stfu and look!
heyy! i wanna see how many poeple actually read this. post a comment, showing you read this, and i will give you an item that i have way to much of.
wanna hear a song? yes? oh lawd, iz bein' in hevenz? well unfortunatly, no songs for you. but lemme write a story- just a short, but enjoy-
"tim, can you hand me the wrench"
"sure thing, bro"
things always worked that way. Tim and I were always working together, building new things. but lets get back where we were.
i wiped the grease of my hands, and went in for another try, this time sure of myself- this engine will start after I'm done. KLANK! KLANK!
"********!"
"hey, you ok?"
tim was always the one to ask..
"yeah, i just banged my hand"
"good, but i think we should talk a break- let your "flesh wound" heal.
besides, i think Sasha just brought home Pizza!"
"kay, lets go"
the night went on like that. nice, kind spirited, with a tad bit of swearing and joking.
none of us had a clue about the events to come- not one of us heard the door open, the usual creak of the floor, seemed to have been muffled. the only sound we heard, was the click-clack of a shot gun reloading, the blast ringing in the air, and in the end, right before passing out in our own blood, the sound of that 1963 mustang, we'd been tuning up, speeding away.
that was all.
whatcha think? kinda stupid, but i guess..
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