brief histories of the hood

Posted: June 28, 2013 in fun is fun
Tags: ,

Even in the Year of Magic Hearts, cock and bread alike grew stale. So we traced patterns of reindeer and snowballs and rice, none of which we had tasted, ever, with the pulp of our moms. We divined from these signs a bombed-out virus that meant no change. Such science meant the end of magic, to our chagrin.

Comments
  1. tdcapers says:

    It took me thirty minutes to realize all my words would never be as efficient as a damn button with a blue star. In other words, Like.

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