| DRAMA13
| Kreestah = skr
| Zch.lo.zool, Doha, I was drunk, sorry for the matrix and the
error
"Everybody, everybody! Everything Sucks, Everything Sucks!"
Everything sucks lemon, lemon Everything Sucks! "Yesterday I
woke up sucking a lemon, yesterday I was trying to say!" - He
wrote, carefully shaking his head, occasionally lifting up his
eyebrows and lowering his eyes.
- John, Brazil, who do I see?
- A, Simon ... Hi-t ...
- Braz, what's the matter? Hey, as Che's that on your cheek?
- Bah! Bitch you, Sim himself drunk in a pixel, and I did not
even
invited ... Shit, even dvuchir called ...
- Braz, well, you know, there is such a thing ...
- Harp on the same string to me here - BrAZ, Brazil! Suck
members, bitch! - Do you?
A friendly skirmish began to turn into a riot now
fantasies, and the guys decided to end will end.
So the morning. Waking up in his bed, John felt the juicy smell
of sweat ... This smell to it that it is similar to ...
"Blyaaaa, exactly!" - Cried to myself, John. He remembered that
felt exactly the same smell in the tent, in the spring, when
they traveled with a group hike. But who is with him then was
in a tent?
- Brazaaa ... - Barely audible in a dream prosopel Simon.
"Blyayaaaaaa sukaaaa !!!", - John could not believe that has
been in third time he has bought into the ploy of Shem,
kotoroya watered it, and how always dragged into the bed. "What
a bitch this sim, it just 16, and whom he will be in 19, 25,
50? "- An idealist at heart John could not leave without
thinking tonight.
<...>
- A, Sim? Come on.
- Hey, brother, what are you doing?
- Oh, story writing ...
John did not want to tell the intruders on his spiritual
experiences, and hid the pain deep in the inside pocket.
- Bitch, well, suck that, if what you silent?
- Bro, this thing ...
Sim abruptly pulled out a pistol and pointed it at exactly the
left temple. They heard a shot. Thud hitting the floor of the
body. Blood trickle flowed down on the table, small droplets
leaked drawer ... Melting of rusty black iron outline of the
book, she shrank small droplets were crowded in the square,
approximately equal to a matchbox and Narova penetrate deep
into the book.
- Braz, because I loved you ... Braz, because you only had
three eleven ... John, John ... John Boy, what dick? Johnny
Boy, why you left me? Johnny ... - Only rare
sobs could be heard from behind pushed the curtains.
Sim glanced at the desk of John. There, as usual, was
mess, piles of papers, a variety of written
supplies, perhaps a dozen album pages, and only exactly in the
middle of the table was a large red book. Sim gently picked up
the book, turned in his hands and tears dropped back to table.
On the cover in red letters were written: "DRAMA13.
