Where Can I Buy A Platypus

e insomma niente, io non ci credo eh, sia ben chiaro, però certo è inquietante.
"fammi vedere la mano"
"Uff..."
"OMIODIO"
"What?" What? "
"Life Line ... and that of love ..."
"Well?" Who? "
"No, they are very short, I'm sorry ..."
"So I do not believe"
"You will die young you know and then stop at the same time so it might be suicide following a disappointment ... and then ... ah ... you'll have a son ...."
So I do not believe it. Really. They are crap. My life will not be affected by a bit of advanced Pellacchia hands ... sure, however, an orphan on his conscience. Miodio.


So today I get nothing on the bus and I see that now there is something wrong ... yet so many people so many seats ... many people ... and all to do capannelo around the driver's cabin. Boh ... then I understand, and I understand why I'm struck me and stuns a nauseating smell. But I am a rock, resist, stoic I sit next to a lady who makes his cock. And I see all the people who turn to (I assume it was, I never shot at him because I do not give anything to see him in the face, Sticazzi short, was a point that smelled and) the poor homeless man on duty, looks grim, handkerchiefs covering their faces, murmurs of disapproval, slowly shook his head, and that memorable squad of black-velvet-scarpedipelleneralucide green-dyed hair red and badly permed-platinum blond to cover the white tufts of bitter self-righteous moralistic gossip-whores shit-with several shopping bags, packages, bags horrific bad-taste combinations that are stuck in the driver (not if the buggers) and would like to lead a protest against a tough and unyielding struggle, but they can not then they're just there to be unnecessary to make a living instead of life. It then climbs a driver out of service, air grim and red nose, vacant look (my experience suggests to me a couple of glasses of whiskey), salt by hitting the little woman blonde, the peers when she turns angry as if it were cannon fodder, but then the doors close. E 'rose. Dominates in the middle of the narrow corridor and oddly not crowded. It employs a 120 long seconds to realize the situation (but you know, alcohol hormones and slow reflexes), all the little women first turn to him, look at him with eyes full of admiration and hope, so he came to save us, yes, yes he will do something, all eyes dart toward He is at the center of attention, but hesitates, is undecided, takes two steps, then stops, turns, looks at the little women, the poor kinesin that stage with all the force his mouth happy for once not the monster unnameable which is the other, turns around, searches the small residue of self-consciousness that remain, and finally, with an effort titatinico, turns around and starts to get his cocks. Joy, gaiety and joy. I'm not unionized
that stink. It 's true, it was nauseating. Disgusting, the scum of humanity, do not ever shake hands with someone who stinks of sewage. But he was there. He was there, and no one could oppose him. Then started the comedy of the Best from peanuts, all united in their grim looks against the Other, the Different, the irregular, the deviant, the criminal. All those white handkerchiefs, but not enough tons of OminoBianco100più (do not pay me, no) to cleanse your soul muddy filthy reeking of dead and stale as if you had never left home. Then I looked outside, the smell blunts the brain maybe, maybe not, maybe it was not as dramatic, maybe I was making my cock, I thought maybe someone or something, I looked out and saw this strange Bezza drag away the gray clouds, the sun dazzled with flashes traffic, and the wind shook the leaves on the trees as long hair glossy blacks of the Asian girl behind me talking on the phone in German, and the wind shook the leaves on the trees as my thoughts and dreams are not feasible for something different, spontaneous, genuine, something that exists only in my mind wrong, a life outside of class, never perfectly aligned, but there might not seem enviable and desirable existence outside the concept of abnormality? no, eh? and the wind shook the leaves on the trees as the blacks of the long hair asian girl who spoke German and I thought Sieg Heil.