is a preview of the cover of our new novel.
MILINGO AGAINST ALL Anniballi of Philip, from April in the library. For now be content with the new edition of our blog ...
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
How Did African Americans Shape The Civil War?
FIRST AID Alessandro Monticelli
The next morning I woke up later with a broken finger.
not remember how it had happened the previous evening had been very alcoholic
But it must have happened in the last place where almost dawn
threw down the last few glasses of wine and rum, dancing and shaking a female
With a face that is unfortunately not stand comparison with the body. So I dressed
using nine fingers, I got in the car and went to the emergency
Soccorso.Era almost lunchtime on a Saturday morning without chaos hospital
few white coats and even fewer patients in the corridors, perhaps at a certain time of day the pain rests.
I rang the bell I opened up and I showed her the finger with whiskers silky
nurse who told me to wait, I hurt my finger, but first they had to fix a guy
With a large bandage over one eye and a guy who had a stamp certificate.
I think I waited about thirty minutes thinking of crazy things out of place and as often happens to me
in waiting rooms where every time we meet for a range of situations.
Finally the door opens and a nurse in their thirties year low and fair beckons me to enter.
We sit in a room where he asks the identity and cause of the accident, ignoring the cause I invent a fall (I know you would expect from an artist a bit 'more inventive, but I was sleepy and my head still out of phase) she looks at the finger and comes up with a "WOW is all wrong," I wonder if
before putting them in there to do a course in social ethics, health care, but I'm not going to answer and I just looked at me like a red pimple the center of the forehead.
After some minutes I sent ray room, to know how's the finger have
Need a slab and also awaits them in the empty corridor, while I do not know how long the staff within a room Sparla aloud the closing hours of shops and a bitch that everyone seems to agree on a couple of specialty plate is clear casa.Dalla a fracture, so you have to go in for an orthopedic visita.Dopo a couple of laps to make me sit empty and return to the search orthopedist disappeared behind me there are vending machines that spew two guys sandwiches and coca-cola the two complain about the latest in payroll deductions and the turn of crap they do. For my part I believe that people is tired, bored, tired maybe because a job that does not like, do things or live situations
What I do not like is insoddisfatta.Così that even a small sign is used to give breath to a life in
apnea, can be anything from a good fuck with a smile
a pink something. Finally the doctor hunt is over, I follow the nurse and the radiologist
the stairs, I climb the steps above in sync and one by one in the middle with his coat on the shoulders
I follow them as they enter the boxers' arena unleashing uprights
air, the doctor seems to know what he's telling me what I like and when you settle your finger
but before then orders the nurses to plaster his arm blocking the finger. At 14:25
gypsum is done, I rest on the shoulders of his coat again and go from
room again preceded by my team, but from the looks of the people and my arm is clear that the avversarioabbia prevailed. I went toward the exit and open the door I flooded a sea of \u200b\u200blight, close my eyes from his pocket and pulled out sunglasses, the headache seems to have disappeared, the temperature is mild, an old jeep in a bustling high-blasphemy voice leaning out the window still open a dog on the street corner watching the scene and laughs heartily.
not remember how it had happened the previous evening had been very alcoholic
But it must have happened in the last place where almost dawn
threw down the last few glasses of wine and rum, dancing and shaking a female
With a face that is unfortunately not stand comparison with the body. So I dressed
using nine fingers, I got in the car and went to the emergency
Soccorso.Era almost lunchtime on a Saturday morning without chaos hospital
few white coats and even fewer patients in the corridors, perhaps at a certain time of day the pain rests.
I rang the bell I opened up and I showed her the finger with whiskers silky
nurse who told me to wait, I hurt my finger, but first they had to fix a guy
With a large bandage over one eye and a guy who had a stamp certificate.
I think I waited about thirty minutes thinking of crazy things out of place and as often happens to me
in waiting rooms where every time we meet for a range of situations.
Finally the door opens and a nurse in their thirties year low and fair beckons me to enter.
We sit in a room where he asks the identity and cause of the accident, ignoring the cause I invent a fall (I know you would expect from an artist a bit 'more inventive, but I was sleepy and my head still out of phase) she looks at the finger and comes up with a "WOW is all wrong," I wonder if
before putting them in there to do a course in social ethics, health care, but I'm not going to answer and I just looked at me like a red pimple the center of the forehead.
After some minutes I sent ray room, to know how's the finger have
Need a slab and also awaits them in the empty corridor, while I do not know how long the staff within a room Sparla aloud the closing hours of shops and a bitch that everyone seems to agree on a couple of specialty plate is clear casa.Dalla a fracture, so you have to go in for an orthopedic visita.Dopo a couple of laps to make me sit empty and return to the search orthopedist disappeared behind me there are vending machines that spew two guys sandwiches and coca-cola the two complain about the latest in payroll deductions and the turn of crap they do. For my part I believe that people is tired, bored, tired maybe because a job that does not like, do things or live situations
What I do not like is insoddisfatta.Così that even a small sign is used to give breath to a life in
apnea, can be anything from a good fuck with a smile
a pink something. Finally the doctor hunt is over, I follow the nurse and the radiologist
the stairs, I climb the steps above in sync and one by one in the middle with his coat on the shoulders
I follow them as they enter the boxers' arena unleashing uprights
air, the doctor seems to know what he's telling me what I like and when you settle your finger
but before then orders the nurses to plaster his arm blocking the finger. At 14:25
gypsum is done, I rest on the shoulders of his coat again and go from
room again preceded by my team, but from the looks of the people and my arm is clear that the avversarioabbia prevailed. I went toward the exit and open the door I flooded a sea of \u200b\u200blight, close my eyes from his pocket and pulled out sunglasses, the headache seems to have disappeared, the temperature is mild, an old jeep in a bustling high-blasphemy voice leaning out the window still open a dog on the street corner watching the scene and laughs heartily.
Aluminum Boat Console
DEATH IN ESSEX Poloismylife of
"You drank the last beer merdaccia bad?" Joe
the rest has filled balls that I do is pretend look for work and drinking cans of cider belt, his is a mission that aims to make me almost normal. Lately, Joe is like the whores that they stop beating, or drug addicts who quit do, all become Joan of Arc ... you believe all of the little EJ Hoover you like mosquitoes buzzing around the CIA. From the incredibly annoying because in a sense, the memories themselves. They can not come to terms with what they were, then you see that it is your fault just because they are stingy and does not like to go somewhere to get someone psychoanalyze
... The house where we live with Uncle and his Swedish sirocco St. Martin's College, is on two floors and is adjacent to a Kentucky Fried Chicken as a cursed that you leave the ladder in the back of the iron ladder, or you feel like fried chicken or you start vomiting on the steps. Sometimes I think of suicide. I am three months that I came here to retrieve my, let's say I have succeeded 60%, are even more plump. Joe also tells you when the barrels magnificence on the sofa, when in a good mood, when an eighteen and trumpet. Other times, must be his things and I can only do so foreign to my face that I find myself, and then says they are the same as always. In my case it is never a compliment, although I take it to the spirit of survival such as teeth and smile to thirty-two thousand. The days follow one another like photocopies all the same, because the sky always white, the smell of fried chicken. But I love the repetition, then that's fine too I am infamous time. He made some beautiful sunny days when I was still north of the street sweeper Walthamstow, but it left me indifferent. Indeed, sometimes m'indispettiva since seven o'clock in the morning was cold and about eleven had to get rid of the jacket because I was sweating, so I had to fix the bad and worse on my jalopy full of shit. A Pakistani boy once asked me with great face fuck and a disturbing hair on her upper lip if by chance I pick up a bum or just the stuff that the homeless are left below. Curandomi not to be seen by cars whizzing assigned to me on the street, aimed a sweep but the shy and the boy makes me a raspberry. A cricket's future? I do not remember well because I refuse collection is fired from north London, although a vague idea I have. Not bad. After a while 'fooling around, many walks in the street market, up and down with the Job Centre, I am stuck with my friend. Perhaps the age of eighteen has accannato to a peer, instill I do not see anything wrong with that. So me, Joe has found a good job, a job at Sainsbury's, the supermarket chain into which a few months time will be stopped for shoplifting. Joe brings me a nice brochure and argues that there are immense possibilities to build a career. There's barely concealed irony in his words, and a touch of sadism. I suddenly put into his head to feed a visceral hatred towards him and stop to speak to him. From now on we will only tell a rude gesture. The reality is that he can not wait to see me wear a uniform to fool, not they care that much that I let him, wants to see me dressed as a snowman to be seized by hysteria and laugh until pee pee. Useless my whining that I'd rather get back to do the garbage, sell your ass or bury the dead. The rent is owed, I never do the shopping, it's time for me would be helpful to the cause especially as I finished writing the thesis in Sofia of the debauched uncle and I have not a shred of an alibi. Besides being a drug dealer uncle, usually always prefer to get paid in goods rather than cash. Nothing to do. I have to go for the interview, Joe does not trust and follow me home and to the door of the supermarket, my shirt and I combed the system as would a mother. Once inside, I'm surrounded by English Delayed and ethnic minorities from the air a thousand times more determined than me. These are modern, and make us fill out a little 'questionnaires from the ceiling in an office down annoyingly. The neon lights are, I'm going to smoke a cigarette in the toilet and I realize that I'm so pale that it seems almost transparent. Perhaps I flatter myself, I do not take because they are invisible. But those who care about the assumptions they know more of the devil. We deal a home movie on the supermarket and then tell us to write down what we saw. Christ, I have a great sense of observation, at least make me manager. I take it as a challenge, but I see the Pakistanis and even the English boor write non-stop as a reporter fifties. I toyed with the embarrassment of a fat pen lent a veil. I can think of tongue twisters and nursery rhymes Friulian my grandmother sang to me, I smile at my new Muslim friend, but she ignores me. They spend a bit 'of days, Joe gets up to go to work and I curse because I can stay pending the decision of the responsible staff of Sainsbury's. I laugh and I pull the blanket up to his ears, Joe thinks to some form of revenge. I know I must be on guard, but I count sheep and I go back to sleep. Me and my friend, we share the bed it is true, but we are like Kato and Inspector Cluseau, although it is difficult to tell who's who of the two. Then when we get drunk, even though he is six feet and I only one there and eighty track, improvise bumfights that our friends are pretending not to know us and let us walk. Ours is an insane rivalry that comes out after the sixth or seventh pint. Typically we begin with some jabs, and then move to insults, to involve our mothers, in the street until we take the soup from the army Salvation and we poured it on him, while we take a fight on the escalator of the subway, then get some chick in a blue uniform that counsels us to pack it would otherwise call the cops. Sure, sure ... the interference of others distract us from each other, a short respite, but then again that if we get back up the iron ladder in the back of the house, beautiful stuffed we are not happy. Sofia asks us if we are crazy, we belch in the face even if Uncle is not happy, but never mind she is Swedish.
And unfortunately this time the job arrives. Joe handed me a brown envelope with a wicked smile as he opened and already knows that the miracle that had been waiting for has arrived. Start kicking the room, unable to comprehend the fact that those pieces of shit who had the courage to hire me. Joe I caress her head, I am calm and I'm hooked on mystical visions. The work I imagine it as a death with an orange robe, the color of the supermarket, instead of a scythe, holds a bar code. I would run away, but this time I just can not. The house I'm in has a nice warmth, others do the shopping and I from time to time I start to cook. Borat look ketamine and Goofy. It 's a loser agree idyll but an idyll. What's so idyllic can not I look better, but that's OK at the bottom.
"Do you think Billy will give you a uniform?" Seeking
to ignore, I drink from my can of cider ghetto pretending to follow a documentary sull'aquarello with three broken ass that should paint a landscape somewhere in Cornwall.
"I think you will look good in uniform, will give an important air ..." I tell him
of trouble and I light up a cigarette. Uncle also arrives, joins the guffaw of the other moron, but then decided to pull myself up the morale to take me to get some 'fresh air. They range from the SS Death's drummer, one of his customers prefer. One who calls the pills "yum yum" and that the coca calls "nose." Step of carefree hours, the SS Death says bestiality one after the other, Unk I check to see if I enjoy. For some reason some people enjoy the fact that certain things I enjoy. Every time I go to the bathroom because I get the giggles. Then Uncle gives me a shot of hope that maybe bamba m'incastro and stop making a fool that he is working after all. But this sort of bear of a man, I come to Sabaudia, Lazio, Latina or some other hell, do not realize what makes me die. In fact, I listen to him and ask him to name a more large, so in the end I'm so nice that he offers. We leave lair of tigers and the fact that as we move both as Pinocchio, Uncle proposes to go do a couple of pints. So he pays me introduce myself ...
Saynsbury at nine o'clock in the morning to the big day. I go to the office of a modern Pakistan and stout. This guy in a suit and tie with a Parlotti English, are both in good spirits. I drew a smile constipated.
"A Filippo, Filippo Inzaghi as ..."
muttered an oath between his teeth and I introduce myself in the dressing department puppets. I give up my beautiful uniform, I can not remember but in addition to cigarette pants and shirt as a policeman, there is a sort of tie that is fixed with a pin and the beautiful orange sweater that Joe dreams for days. But the piece de resistance are the boots that make me walk like Frankenstein. I head straight into the belly soaking the supermarket, warehouse. There are a fat cockney and that there is never a middle-aged type Jamaika taxis that cigarette every five minutes. I am involved in unloading goods from trucks. Work on the ramp and load a forklift, hand food, then I put them where I tell them. Let's do some 'inventory, we are the quintessence of listlessness. At lunch I go home, my feet are so bad that if someone gave me the shoes I put them to commit suicide andarmi a hand against him in a truck. At home there is no one and thank god, because now I can see in the mirror as they finished bottom. I make myself a sandwich and two cans of cider, then eat a package of vigorsol, prey to a bout of bulimia from gum arabic. I'll be back at the slaughterhouse and slightly tipsy appearance instructions. The Jamaika tells me to take it easy, to sit as well. Then came an Englishman with a mid-air between the fennel and the Nazi who asks me why I have nothing to do. He sputtered that are new. The pederast makes a face and asks me if they are Irish. This
then ... "Then there is an Italian with a English name in Walthamstow? precisely in the warehouse of a Sainsb ... "
" It's not English "
" As you think, sure I'm not Irish? "
After the pain in the ass and leaves Jamaika out from his hiding place, ask him what is the history of the Irish. Bob shrugs and says that the type must have thought because I have an air of being lazy and saying that Italian I have certainly improved things.
The next day Bob showed me my new assignment. We go outside where there is a giant press, before which are placed high carts full of rotten food that I will have to exterminate me in person. The press is very dangerous, there is a guy dead inside but my colleague does not remember exactly how. He shows me the buttons work, it gives me a kind of shovel, a jacket and it makes me good luck. I scratch my balls. I begin to squash shit, Joe cursing at each shovelful. Good for me bedraggled trousers and smadonno because they leverage a mephitic smell. Every now and then pass Jamaika to see if they are dead or if by chance I ran away.
o'clock I go home, Uncle opens the door and I burst out laughing in the face. Throw away the tab from the can and shoot myself in the whole pint at once, advancing to the staggered seating. I am about to start crying. There Nose, so now we call the type of Death SS. He did not find anything abnormal in my new way to get around. He's there to acchittare Uncle and since it looks good from joining his client, gives me a braying that just does not like blowjobs alone. A point ... I'm
me through the hunger, I think the press imparanoio, thank nose and go down the ladder of iron doubly handicapped by stiff boots that were not enough. Pass the Off-license and the Turks, accustomed to seeing me in many other garments, do not make it to linger and become a chuckle, too. I'm not upset, because they make me credit, I attack the second can of K Cider and walking like Forrest Gump when the metal braces I am going to shovel a few more tons of shit. The evening of the day, doing DIY stoned ketamine I open the palm of the hand in two with a knife. I cut the muscle, Joe is called the ambulance to Uncle because he is sick. I hear a lot of pain and lose so much blood, but I tell myself that tomorrow will put us all in all some other asshole in front the press. The hospital are unable to patch, then the next day Joe who took a good scare us call a taxi slams into me. We have to go to a hospital specializing in this kind of accident, Essex. I say well, I've never been to Essex ...
Along the way we stopped at a gas station, because Joe did not take me three or four beer porn magazines, two Snickers and Mars.
"You can take the stuff tomorrow? I'll come ... "
Joe ignores me. Do a bite to a finger, the whirring of the window, the other if the putty my friend now very concentrated in the reading of porn that I should bring up the morale, but I figures will only do shit with the nurses.
the rest has filled balls that I do is pretend look for work and drinking cans of cider belt, his is a mission that aims to make me almost normal. Lately, Joe is like the whores that they stop beating, or drug addicts who quit do, all become Joan of Arc ... you believe all of the little EJ Hoover you like mosquitoes buzzing around the CIA. From the incredibly annoying because in a sense, the memories themselves. They can not come to terms with what they were, then you see that it is your fault just because they are stingy and does not like to go somewhere to get someone psychoanalyze
... The house where we live with Uncle and his Swedish sirocco St. Martin's College, is on two floors and is adjacent to a Kentucky Fried Chicken as a cursed that you leave the ladder in the back of the iron ladder, or you feel like fried chicken or you start vomiting on the steps. Sometimes I think of suicide. I am three months that I came here to retrieve my, let's say I have succeeded 60%, are even more plump. Joe also tells you when the barrels magnificence on the sofa, when in a good mood, when an eighteen and trumpet. Other times, must be his things and I can only do so foreign to my face that I find myself, and then says they are the same as always. In my case it is never a compliment, although I take it to the spirit of survival such as teeth and smile to thirty-two thousand. The days follow one another like photocopies all the same, because the sky always white, the smell of fried chicken. But I love the repetition, then that's fine too I am infamous time. He made some beautiful sunny days when I was still north of the street sweeper Walthamstow, but it left me indifferent. Indeed, sometimes m'indispettiva since seven o'clock in the morning was cold and about eleven had to get rid of the jacket because I was sweating, so I had to fix the bad and worse on my jalopy full of shit. A Pakistani boy once asked me with great face fuck and a disturbing hair on her upper lip if by chance I pick up a bum or just the stuff that the homeless are left below. Curandomi not to be seen by cars whizzing assigned to me on the street, aimed a sweep but the shy and the boy makes me a raspberry. A cricket's future? I do not remember well because I refuse collection is fired from north London, although a vague idea I have. Not bad. After a while 'fooling around, many walks in the street market, up and down with the Job Centre, I am stuck with my friend. Perhaps the age of eighteen has accannato to a peer, instill I do not see anything wrong with that. So me, Joe has found a good job, a job at Sainsbury's, the supermarket chain into which a few months time will be stopped for shoplifting. Joe brings me a nice brochure and argues that there are immense possibilities to build a career. There's barely concealed irony in his words, and a touch of sadism. I suddenly put into his head to feed a visceral hatred towards him and stop to speak to him. From now on we will only tell a rude gesture. The reality is that he can not wait to see me wear a uniform to fool, not they care that much that I let him, wants to see me dressed as a snowman to be seized by hysteria and laugh until pee pee. Useless my whining that I'd rather get back to do the garbage, sell your ass or bury the dead. The rent is owed, I never do the shopping, it's time for me would be helpful to the cause especially as I finished writing the thesis in Sofia of the debauched uncle and I have not a shred of an alibi. Besides being a drug dealer uncle, usually always prefer to get paid in goods rather than cash. Nothing to do. I have to go for the interview, Joe does not trust and follow me home and to the door of the supermarket, my shirt and I combed the system as would a mother. Once inside, I'm surrounded by English Delayed and ethnic minorities from the air a thousand times more determined than me. These are modern, and make us fill out a little 'questionnaires from the ceiling in an office down annoyingly. The neon lights are, I'm going to smoke a cigarette in the toilet and I realize that I'm so pale that it seems almost transparent. Perhaps I flatter myself, I do not take because they are invisible. But those who care about the assumptions they know more of the devil. We deal a home movie on the supermarket and then tell us to write down what we saw. Christ, I have a great sense of observation, at least make me manager. I take it as a challenge, but I see the Pakistanis and even the English boor write non-stop as a reporter fifties. I toyed with the embarrassment of a fat pen lent a veil. I can think of tongue twisters and nursery rhymes Friulian my grandmother sang to me, I smile at my new Muslim friend, but she ignores me. They spend a bit 'of days, Joe gets up to go to work and I curse because I can stay pending the decision of the responsible staff of Sainsbury's. I laugh and I pull the blanket up to his ears, Joe thinks to some form of revenge. I know I must be on guard, but I count sheep and I go back to sleep. Me and my friend, we share the bed it is true, but we are like Kato and Inspector Cluseau, although it is difficult to tell who's who of the two. Then when we get drunk, even though he is six feet and I only one there and eighty track, improvise bumfights that our friends are pretending not to know us and let us walk. Ours is an insane rivalry that comes out after the sixth or seventh pint. Typically we begin with some jabs, and then move to insults, to involve our mothers, in the street until we take the soup from the army Salvation and we poured it on him, while we take a fight on the escalator of the subway, then get some chick in a blue uniform that counsels us to pack it would otherwise call the cops. Sure, sure ... the interference of others distract us from each other, a short respite, but then again that if we get back up the iron ladder in the back of the house, beautiful stuffed we are not happy. Sofia asks us if we are crazy, we belch in the face even if Uncle is not happy, but never mind she is Swedish.
And unfortunately this time the job arrives. Joe handed me a brown envelope with a wicked smile as he opened and already knows that the miracle that had been waiting for has arrived. Start kicking the room, unable to comprehend the fact that those pieces of shit who had the courage to hire me. Joe I caress her head, I am calm and I'm hooked on mystical visions. The work I imagine it as a death with an orange robe, the color of the supermarket, instead of a scythe, holds a bar code. I would run away, but this time I just can not. The house I'm in has a nice warmth, others do the shopping and I from time to time I start to cook. Borat look ketamine and Goofy. It 's a loser agree idyll but an idyll. What's so idyllic can not I look better, but that's OK at the bottom.
"Do you think Billy will give you a uniform?" Seeking
to ignore, I drink from my can of cider ghetto pretending to follow a documentary sull'aquarello with three broken ass that should paint a landscape somewhere in Cornwall.
"I think you will look good in uniform, will give an important air ..." I tell him
of trouble and I light up a cigarette. Uncle also arrives, joins the guffaw of the other moron, but then decided to pull myself up the morale to take me to get some 'fresh air. They range from the SS Death's drummer, one of his customers prefer. One who calls the pills "yum yum" and that the coca calls "nose." Step of carefree hours, the SS Death says bestiality one after the other, Unk I check to see if I enjoy. For some reason some people enjoy the fact that certain things I enjoy. Every time I go to the bathroom because I get the giggles. Then Uncle gives me a shot of hope that maybe bamba m'incastro and stop making a fool that he is working after all. But this sort of bear of a man, I come to Sabaudia, Lazio, Latina or some other hell, do not realize what makes me die. In fact, I listen to him and ask him to name a more large, so in the end I'm so nice that he offers. We leave lair of tigers and the fact that as we move both as Pinocchio, Uncle proposes to go do a couple of pints. So he pays me introduce myself ...
Saynsbury at nine o'clock in the morning to the big day. I go to the office of a modern Pakistan and stout. This guy in a suit and tie with a Parlotti English, are both in good spirits. I drew a smile constipated.
"A Filippo, Filippo Inzaghi as ..."
muttered an oath between his teeth and I introduce myself in the dressing department puppets. I give up my beautiful uniform, I can not remember but in addition to cigarette pants and shirt as a policeman, there is a sort of tie that is fixed with a pin and the beautiful orange sweater that Joe dreams for days. But the piece de resistance are the boots that make me walk like Frankenstein. I head straight into the belly soaking the supermarket, warehouse. There are a fat cockney and that there is never a middle-aged type Jamaika taxis that cigarette every five minutes. I am involved in unloading goods from trucks. Work on the ramp and load a forklift, hand food, then I put them where I tell them. Let's do some 'inventory, we are the quintessence of listlessness. At lunch I go home, my feet are so bad that if someone gave me the shoes I put them to commit suicide andarmi a hand against him in a truck. At home there is no one and thank god, because now I can see in the mirror as they finished bottom. I make myself a sandwich and two cans of cider, then eat a package of vigorsol, prey to a bout of bulimia from gum arabic. I'll be back at the slaughterhouse and slightly tipsy appearance instructions. The Jamaika tells me to take it easy, to sit as well. Then came an Englishman with a mid-air between the fennel and the Nazi who asks me why I have nothing to do. He sputtered that are new. The pederast makes a face and asks me if they are Irish. This
then ... "Then there is an Italian with a English name in Walthamstow? precisely in the warehouse of a Sainsb ... "
" It's not English "
" As you think, sure I'm not Irish? "
After the pain in the ass and leaves Jamaika out from his hiding place, ask him what is the history of the Irish. Bob shrugs and says that the type must have thought because I have an air of being lazy and saying that Italian I have certainly improved things.
The next day Bob showed me my new assignment. We go outside where there is a giant press, before which are placed high carts full of rotten food that I will have to exterminate me in person. The press is very dangerous, there is a guy dead inside but my colleague does not remember exactly how. He shows me the buttons work, it gives me a kind of shovel, a jacket and it makes me good luck. I scratch my balls. I begin to squash shit, Joe cursing at each shovelful. Good for me bedraggled trousers and smadonno because they leverage a mephitic smell. Every now and then pass Jamaika to see if they are dead or if by chance I ran away.
o'clock I go home, Uncle opens the door and I burst out laughing in the face. Throw away the tab from the can and shoot myself in the whole pint at once, advancing to the staggered seating. I am about to start crying. There Nose, so now we call the type of Death SS. He did not find anything abnormal in my new way to get around. He's there to acchittare Uncle and since it looks good from joining his client, gives me a braying that just does not like blowjobs alone. A point ... I'm
me through the hunger, I think the press imparanoio, thank nose and go down the ladder of iron doubly handicapped by stiff boots that were not enough. Pass the Off-license and the Turks, accustomed to seeing me in many other garments, do not make it to linger and become a chuckle, too. I'm not upset, because they make me credit, I attack the second can of K Cider and walking like Forrest Gump when the metal braces I am going to shovel a few more tons of shit. The evening of the day, doing DIY stoned ketamine I open the palm of the hand in two with a knife. I cut the muscle, Joe is called the ambulance to Uncle because he is sick. I hear a lot of pain and lose so much blood, but I tell myself that tomorrow will put us all in all some other asshole in front the press. The hospital are unable to patch, then the next day Joe who took a good scare us call a taxi slams into me. We have to go to a hospital specializing in this kind of accident, Essex. I say well, I've never been to Essex ...
Along the way we stopped at a gas station, because Joe did not take me three or four beer porn magazines, two Snickers and Mars.
"You can take the stuff tomorrow? I'll come ... "
Joe ignores me. Do a bite to a finger, the whirring of the window, the other if the putty my friend now very concentrated in the reading of porn that I should bring up the morale, but I figures will only do shit with the nurses.
South Indian Actress Boob
THE GREAT GREEN DRAGON Nico Syrians
Mrs. Syrians raised his head from the magazine, with a suspect. The suspect, who was thin and barely audible, had the bitter taste of a freshly squeezed lemon, and hid behind as a clue to the smell of salt air and the plastic balls that bounced over the sand. The ball popped out to hundreds, and when they flew through the air together, seemed to cover the entire sky. But it never happened. Were always large patches of blue, from which the rays of filtered sole.Nell 'get up, the lady tried to maintain a certain demeanor, as she did not to be taken for mad. Stretches the knees and slowly walked toward the shore. There is no hurry, he thought, I do it just to give a controllatina, but it's Ok. He left his mark in single file, until he reached the shore. The sand and the beach was sizzled like a skillet. Drowned on the water. Then, very slowly, his eyes surveyed the entire beach. Later it passed to the sea and the waves, always standing firm in its position that Mr. strategica.Quando Syrians heard the screams of his wife, he knew immediately what was going on, here, he said, another ready-made crisis of anxiety and rushed towards the shore ready to help. But as soon as it was close enough that you can clearly see the face, the blood froze. The lady was like a column of white marble set in the sand, except for an arm holding a fixed point to indicate a green dot in the sea .- The green dragon is there. - Said the lady. - Floats on water. But Monica is not there. -At these words Mr. Syrians jumped without thinking twice and swam up to the dragon, and came back. Brought the ring to his wife's daughter, who was the head of a green dragon on the front attacked, but her daughter was not there .- It is quiet inside. - He said - probably will be made to build a castle of sand on shore and the bun will be forgotten. That's it. You'll see that we suffered. But no sooner uttered those words-he realized that was not true at all, and discovers that he entered into a film in which he could not help but stand by and watch their gestures, they saw while shouting the name of his daughter, and saw the wife, and saw a large crowd that had joined them without understanding why. He tried to keep an eye especially his wife. He saw him forge strong daughter of the ring, and cried and thought about what she was thinking and came to the conclusion that his main thought would be "terrible parents that we were to leave her all alone with this horrible dragon." He too was not so much a genius, this story of the dragon. It was said that maybe it would be more appropriate to buy her a ring with his head on teddy bear or a turtle, while they tried to return to his body. He saw the crowd move increasingly towards the sea, until we entered fully into and only then he went back into the body, and found himself beside his wife and was happy. Then he looked up and was unhappy again. His wife saw him motionless staring at a distant point in the middle of the blue top and was afraid to look, but then turned her too. The rest of the crowd was digging frantically into the water, reach and screaming as if they were attacked by a swarm of angry bees, while Messrs. Syrians if they were impaled, still, with his eyes fixed on a distant point. They remained in this position for so long more. understood what was going on. 
Mrs. Syrians raised his head from the magazine, with a suspect. The suspect, who was thin and barely audible, had the bitter taste of a freshly squeezed lemon, and hid behind as a clue to the smell of salt air and the plastic balls that bounced over the sand. The ball popped out to hundreds, and when they flew through the air together, seemed to cover the entire sky. But it never happened. Were always large patches of blue, from which the rays of filtered sole.Nell 'get up, the lady tried to maintain a certain demeanor, as she did not to be taken for mad. Stretches the knees and slowly walked toward the shore. There is no hurry, he thought, I do it just to give a controllatina, but it's Ok. He left his mark in single file, until he reached the shore. The sand and the beach was sizzled like a skillet. Drowned on the water. Then, very slowly, his eyes surveyed the entire beach. Later it passed to the sea and the waves, always standing firm in its position that Mr. strategica.Quando Syrians heard the screams of his wife, he knew immediately what was going on, here, he said, another ready-made crisis of anxiety and rushed towards the shore ready to help. But as soon as it was close enough that you can clearly see the face, the blood froze. The lady was like a column of white marble set in the sand, except for an arm holding a fixed point to indicate a green dot in the sea .- The green dragon is there. - Said the lady. - Floats on water. But Monica is not there. -At these words Mr. Syrians jumped without thinking twice and swam up to the dragon, and came back. Brought the ring to his wife's daughter, who was the head of a green dragon on the front attacked, but her daughter was not there .- It is quiet inside. - He said - probably will be made to build a castle of sand on shore and the bun will be forgotten. That's it. You'll see that we suffered. But no sooner uttered those words-he realized that was not true at all, and discovers that he entered into a film in which he could not help but stand by and watch their gestures, they saw while shouting the name of his daughter, and saw the wife, and saw a large crowd that had joined them without understanding why. He tried to keep an eye especially his wife. He saw him forge strong daughter of the ring, and cried and thought about what she was thinking and came to the conclusion that his main thought would be "terrible parents that we were to leave her all alone with this horrible dragon." He too was not so much a genius, this story of the dragon. It was said that maybe it would be more appropriate to buy her a ring with his head on teddy bear or a turtle, while they tried to return to his body. He saw the crowd move increasingly towards the sea, until we entered fully into and only then he went back into the body, and found himself beside his wife and was happy. Then he looked up and was unhappy again. His wife saw him motionless staring at a distant point in the middle of the blue top and was afraid to look, but then turned her too. The rest of the crowd was digging frantically into the water, reach and screaming as if they were attacked by a swarm of angry bees, while Messrs. Syrians if they were impaled, still, with his eyes fixed on a distant point. They remained in this position for so long more. understood what was going on.
Biology Lap Cricket Respiration
B-SIDE Giancarmine Di Matola
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, here is the character that we were all waiting for. Let's make a nice round of applause to Caramel Sannino, the writer who has brought prestige to the community of San Giorgio cream ".
The voice of Joseph Brisson, the presenter of the "1st prize Christmas Eve - City of San Giorgio a cream", came from speakers like screeching chalk on a blackboard, chilling the audience sitting on the sidelines of the hall sport. For the occasion, Brisson was sporting a Santa Claus suit borrowed from his brother, a boorish action that horrified most of the staff.
However, he realized he had made an even bigger bullshit when he heard the roar after his public announcement. Came from the stands expressions like:
"But who chiammat to st'omm and shit?" "'O Pozzan' accirer '' a study zuzzus! Ropp Chell about done "" Cos 'and madness', mo there Rann pure 'or press' curnut to study. "
Bristle looked around as if searching for explanations and saw the mayor sitting on the sideline, like a growling rottweiler while the monsignor, sitting in the little more, swore together alderman for cultural policies. Yet the lineup he had been given was clear: after the message of the lord, the mayor and the councilor: After winning the girls' chorus, the volleyball team and students of classical ballet, it was his turn to be rewarded.
Brisson had no idea who he was "him", but they cursed the name. He had spent too many years for neomelodici singers in street festivals and the most absurd, was the chance to make the leap and quit with that world of people desperate and untalented. So, showing off her plastic smile, tried to improvise something that pulled quell'impaccio out.
"They tell me that the writer could not come because of previous commitments, so go ahead and call the evening with ...".
But the sound of a slamming door drove back the words in my mouth. When he saw a shadow emerged from a door emergency on his right, he knew it would be all fucked up. The man was advancing staggering and smelled of alcohol as a wine cellar: the dirty jacket and ripped jeans completed the painting repugnant. So the writer could only be combined, he said bristle odiandone category.
"I'm Carmen Sannino," the man said mumbling the words. "They told me that I have to pick something ...."
the stands the noise had become unbearable, and Brisson, not to lose control of the evening, had to necessarily speed up the award. Thus, from a small table behind him, picked up a statuette of Massimo Troisi dressed as a bagpiper and gave him unceremoniously.
"Chist'è 'or premium, and pigliatell vattenn fuck off!" Brisson said with the air in disgust and turned off the microphone, for a moment losing his greasy smile.
"Dear Santa Claus, the premium you can put it up your ass, what I want is your microphone." Sannino no more mumbled, his voice had grown suddenly dark and sharp as a knife knife. In front of the harshness of those words, the Bristles smile shattered into a million pieces.
"But you are stupid! It nun'a firnisc 'chiamm' a police et'facc .... " But
bristle failed to finish the sentence because Sannino, with a lightning shot, snatched the microphone from the hands holding it for a walk. When he got close to the stands, lit it.
"ready ... test ... test ... ready ... I heard all? Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay, I was in the toilet to pee .... "
chaos broke out immediately. Left a terrible roar from the stands full of curses, something you could feel the stadium S. Paul when Napoli missed a goal. The audience began to throw bottles, cans, lighters and coins, which Sannino ducked with surprising agility.
"... I know that I wish everyone well and I want there. Five years ago I went from this city with a heavy heart, but you should know that my book "Tales of a town infamous" has exceeded one hundred thousand copies, and soon, we will make a film. I do not know how to tell you but there are really grateful and to prove it, I want to thank all the people who have inspired my book.
And I'll start with you, fucking fellow citizens, that with your petit bourgeois mentality of the greedy and hypocritical, you've got the right context for my stories. But now we come to thank the real protagonists of the book, which I found to my great satisfaction ... between the authorities intervened. "
Brisson had become as cold as a statue, but he had to repair the excesses of that son of a bitch at all costs, otherwise they would not have even called marriages of Romanians. He was about to take him behind to take away the microphone when Sannino, with a sudden slap, sent it along the floor.
"... I was saying ... so I thank the host, Mayor Ernesto Palumbo, who has invented this fucking award to two months after the elections. Obviously, the allegations of fraud, embezzlement and financial difficulties, not prevented him from putting on this bandwagon to beg for your vote. Yet, when it denounced his wheeling and dealing in the newspaper where I worked, the editorial staff was inundated with your letters accusing me of having tarnished the reputation of an honest person. I was fired while he was elected.
Today, as then, you deserve his re-election. Then thank
father Rosario mine, our beloved pastor, who, at the hour of catechism, has a habit of bringing children into the sacristy to suck their penis, which at that time did with me. Of course you all know that is an infamous pederast, but as always you ignore it for fear of unleashing a scandal. And how can I not thank
Manuela Brignola, my girlfriend at university, now Department for Cultural Policy and happily married to a policeman Prestieri Gianluca, who was also present here. Tell me my love, you're always the same sadistic depravity that left me saying that I was a pathetic failure? But of course you're still, I read in my eyes and I bet you've trained your husband to be a perfect submissive slave.
Well, I think I have thanked everyone. I conclude, wishing you a Merry Christmas and may you choke with all the greed that you are capable.
Now excuse me, but I have to go back to pee .... "
Sanner threw the microphone on a bristle that, on the ground, cried like a baby, then turned down the hall from where he was popped. At the same time, the public angry invaded the field to inveigh against the mayor and his cronies.
With her hand resting on the toilet wall, Sannino was doing the best piss of his life. All the rage in his body was slipping away with the urine, an indescribable satisfaction that repays all the harassment they suffered. But who had the bizarre idea to invite him, but he was too drunk to make guesses. Unfortunately, that state of grace that lasted as long as pissing from behind a steel hand took his head by the hair and put it to him by force into the cup. Bristle swallowed his piss trying desperately not to drown, until the hand pulled him out and threw him to the urinal wall. Sannino shouting and swearing in pain, but man, with a feline shot, grabbed him by the neck lifting weight.
"dirty bastard, that's how you treat old friends?". Marshal Prestieri was the husband of Manuela. The ironic tone hid a hate full of resentment. "Now I'll spend the desire of people in public rubbish", and began to hit him with some tremendous punches in the groin, until he almost fainted from the pain. Then the door opened and a stern woman's voice echoed in the room. Prestieri Sannino soon left, which fell into ruin on the floor, then crouched in a corner like a whipped dog. Sannino was lying on its side, paralyzed by grief, but he caught a pair of black shoes with high heels approaching. One of the shoe hit him lightly with the tip, and rotate it like a dead weight. When he found himself with his back to the floor, he was blinded by the lights of neon. As soon as his vision cleared, he knew who owned the shoes.
"Hello Carmine, you were very bad tonight, you know?" Was Manuel, and even more beautiful bastard as he remembered.
"Yes! I was bad, so bad, and I deserve to be punished ... " Sannino could not suppress an erection painful. After all this time, those ways were still the Mistress of that effect.
"It is ..." Manuel said with an evil smile, crushing balls with high heels. At that torture were added kicks of her husband and soon after, as the mayor, the lord and the presenter, who meanwhile had come to get even with him. The ground with anger and malice, and when they finished, they took a weight off the building by knocking a door. Sannino found himself on a pile of garbage bags and thought that we would stay until Christmas, since he had the strength to move a muscle. But after a few minutes the door opened again and a beautiful girl appeared at the door.
"Hello, you beat me too?" Sannino said, touching his lips swollen.
"No! I just want to help, "she replied with a smirk, then took him by the arm and after several attempts, managed to put it back together.
"If anything, you were wondering, I'm Tiziana, your classmate in high school." Sannino was still groggy for alcohol and suffered from the beating, but the memory does not deceive him: not that girl looked like at all.
"Tiziana! Damn you is yourself. But what you did, you're different than you remembered. Excuse me for I say, but at school you were a toilet and now they are .... "
"A stratospheric pussy? I know, they tell me in so many. True, I was a toilet at school, but nothing that could not be corrected with a ferocious diet and a plastic surgeon. And so I did. Now listen to me, I have little time and I have to go back inside. I am part of the organization and I'm the one who, unbeknownst to all, has invited you to this shit for a premium. When I was asked to draw the names of winners, I immediately thought of you. Something told me you were looking for an opportunity to make him pay, and apparently, I was not wrong, although I expected a different ending. You know I always had a crush on you, so this time not to see disappear. You owe me a favor, remember. " Tiziana
put into his hand a piece of paper that says the number of his cell phone and before he disappeared through the door, gave him a wink that it was a whole program.
Sannino put the package in his jacket pocket and lit a cigarette half bruised, he thought that he had never had so much fun as that night. 
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, here is the character that we were all waiting for. Let's make a nice round of applause to Caramel Sannino, the writer who has brought prestige to the community of San Giorgio cream ".
The voice of Joseph Brisson, the presenter of the "1st prize Christmas Eve - City of San Giorgio a cream", came from speakers like screeching chalk on a blackboard, chilling the audience sitting on the sidelines of the hall sport. For the occasion, Brisson was sporting a Santa Claus suit borrowed from his brother, a boorish action that horrified most of the staff.
However, he realized he had made an even bigger bullshit when he heard the roar after his public announcement. Came from the stands expressions like:
"But who chiammat to st'omm and shit?" "'O Pozzan' accirer '' a study zuzzus! Ropp Chell about done "" Cos 'and madness', mo there Rann pure 'or press' curnut to study. "
Bristle looked around as if searching for explanations and saw the mayor sitting on the sideline, like a growling rottweiler while the monsignor, sitting in the little more, swore together alderman for cultural policies. Yet the lineup he had been given was clear: after the message of the lord, the mayor and the councilor: After winning the girls' chorus, the volleyball team and students of classical ballet, it was his turn to be rewarded.
Brisson had no idea who he was "him", but they cursed the name. He had spent too many years for neomelodici singers in street festivals and the most absurd, was the chance to make the leap and quit with that world of people desperate and untalented. So, showing off her plastic smile, tried to improvise something that pulled quell'impaccio out.
"They tell me that the writer could not come because of previous commitments, so go ahead and call the evening with ...".
But the sound of a slamming door drove back the words in my mouth. When he saw a shadow emerged from a door emergency on his right, he knew it would be all fucked up. The man was advancing staggering and smelled of alcohol as a wine cellar: the dirty jacket and ripped jeans completed the painting repugnant. So the writer could only be combined, he said bristle odiandone category.
"I'm Carmen Sannino," the man said mumbling the words. "They told me that I have to pick something ...."
the stands the noise had become unbearable, and Brisson, not to lose control of the evening, had to necessarily speed up the award. Thus, from a small table behind him, picked up a statuette of Massimo Troisi dressed as a bagpiper and gave him unceremoniously.
"Chist'è 'or premium, and pigliatell vattenn fuck off!" Brisson said with the air in disgust and turned off the microphone, for a moment losing his greasy smile.
"Dear Santa Claus, the premium you can put it up your ass, what I want is your microphone." Sannino no more mumbled, his voice had grown suddenly dark and sharp as a knife knife. In front of the harshness of those words, the Bristles smile shattered into a million pieces.
"But you are stupid! It nun'a firnisc 'chiamm' a police et'facc .... " But
bristle failed to finish the sentence because Sannino, with a lightning shot, snatched the microphone from the hands holding it for a walk. When he got close to the stands, lit it.
"ready ... test ... test ... ready ... I heard all? Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay, I was in the toilet to pee .... "
chaos broke out immediately. Left a terrible roar from the stands full of curses, something you could feel the stadium S. Paul when Napoli missed a goal. The audience began to throw bottles, cans, lighters and coins, which Sannino ducked with surprising agility.
"... I know that I wish everyone well and I want there. Five years ago I went from this city with a heavy heart, but you should know that my book "Tales of a town infamous" has exceeded one hundred thousand copies, and soon, we will make a film. I do not know how to tell you but there are really grateful and to prove it, I want to thank all the people who have inspired my book.
And I'll start with you, fucking fellow citizens, that with your petit bourgeois mentality of the greedy and hypocritical, you've got the right context for my stories. But now we come to thank the real protagonists of the book, which I found to my great satisfaction ... between the authorities intervened. "
Brisson had become as cold as a statue, but he had to repair the excesses of that son of a bitch at all costs, otherwise they would not have even called marriages of Romanians. He was about to take him behind to take away the microphone when Sannino, with a sudden slap, sent it along the floor.
"... I was saying ... so I thank the host, Mayor Ernesto Palumbo, who has invented this fucking award to two months after the elections. Obviously, the allegations of fraud, embezzlement and financial difficulties, not prevented him from putting on this bandwagon to beg for your vote. Yet, when it denounced his wheeling and dealing in the newspaper where I worked, the editorial staff was inundated with your letters accusing me of having tarnished the reputation of an honest person. I was fired while he was elected.
Today, as then, you deserve his re-election. Then thank
father Rosario mine, our beloved pastor, who, at the hour of catechism, has a habit of bringing children into the sacristy to suck their penis, which at that time did with me. Of course you all know that is an infamous pederast, but as always you ignore it for fear of unleashing a scandal. And how can I not thank
Manuela Brignola, my girlfriend at university, now Department for Cultural Policy and happily married to a policeman Prestieri Gianluca, who was also present here. Tell me my love, you're always the same sadistic depravity that left me saying that I was a pathetic failure? But of course you're still, I read in my eyes and I bet you've trained your husband to be a perfect submissive slave.
Well, I think I have thanked everyone. I conclude, wishing you a Merry Christmas and may you choke with all the greed that you are capable.
Now excuse me, but I have to go back to pee .... "
Sanner threw the microphone on a bristle that, on the ground, cried like a baby, then turned down the hall from where he was popped. At the same time, the public angry invaded the field to inveigh against the mayor and his cronies.
With her hand resting on the toilet wall, Sannino was doing the best piss of his life. All the rage in his body was slipping away with the urine, an indescribable satisfaction that repays all the harassment they suffered. But who had the bizarre idea to invite him, but he was too drunk to make guesses. Unfortunately, that state of grace that lasted as long as pissing from behind a steel hand took his head by the hair and put it to him by force into the cup. Bristle swallowed his piss trying desperately not to drown, until the hand pulled him out and threw him to the urinal wall. Sannino shouting and swearing in pain, but man, with a feline shot, grabbed him by the neck lifting weight.
"dirty bastard, that's how you treat old friends?". Marshal Prestieri was the husband of Manuela. The ironic tone hid a hate full of resentment. "Now I'll spend the desire of people in public rubbish", and began to hit him with some tremendous punches in the groin, until he almost fainted from the pain. Then the door opened and a stern woman's voice echoed in the room. Prestieri Sannino soon left, which fell into ruin on the floor, then crouched in a corner like a whipped dog. Sannino was lying on its side, paralyzed by grief, but he caught a pair of black shoes with high heels approaching. One of the shoe hit him lightly with the tip, and rotate it like a dead weight. When he found himself with his back to the floor, he was blinded by the lights of neon. As soon as his vision cleared, he knew who owned the shoes.
"Hello Carmine, you were very bad tonight, you know?" Was Manuel, and even more beautiful bastard as he remembered.
"Yes! I was bad, so bad, and I deserve to be punished ... " Sannino could not suppress an erection painful. After all this time, those ways were still the Mistress of that effect.
"It is ..." Manuel said with an evil smile, crushing balls with high heels. At that torture were added kicks of her husband and soon after, as the mayor, the lord and the presenter, who meanwhile had come to get even with him. The ground with anger and malice, and when they finished, they took a weight off the building by knocking a door. Sannino found himself on a pile of garbage bags and thought that we would stay until Christmas, since he had the strength to move a muscle. But after a few minutes the door opened again and a beautiful girl appeared at the door.
"Hello, you beat me too?" Sannino said, touching his lips swollen.
"No! I just want to help, "she replied with a smirk, then took him by the arm and after several attempts, managed to put it back together.
"If anything, you were wondering, I'm Tiziana, your classmate in high school." Sannino was still groggy for alcohol and suffered from the beating, but the memory does not deceive him: not that girl looked like at all.
"Tiziana! Damn you is yourself. But what you did, you're different than you remembered. Excuse me for I say, but at school you were a toilet and now they are .... "
"A stratospheric pussy? I know, they tell me in so many. True, I was a toilet at school, but nothing that could not be corrected with a ferocious diet and a plastic surgeon. And so I did. Now listen to me, I have little time and I have to go back inside. I am part of the organization and I'm the one who, unbeknownst to all, has invited you to this shit for a premium. When I was asked to draw the names of winners, I immediately thought of you. Something told me you were looking for an opportunity to make him pay, and apparently, I was not wrong, although I expected a different ending. You know I always had a crush on you, so this time not to see disappear. You owe me a favor, remember. " Tiziana
put into his hand a piece of paper that says the number of his cell phone and before he disappeared through the door, gave him a wink that it was a whole program.
Sannino put the package in his jacket pocket and lit a cigarette half bruised, he thought that he had never had so much fun as that night.
40'' Gumbo Mud Tires For Sale
When I was a Spider-Man by Gianni Solla
I was convinced that the spider man for four months, between May and August dell'ottantanove exactly. I was not talking to anyone and I sat all day holed up in the damp corners of the house. I attended the garages and cellars, lofts and basements. I knew I had superpowers typical spider man, those of which we are all familiar with through TV or comics, but in fact they never used them. Can not rule out that I was crazy, that my brain had been twisted, melted, rotten, expired, pecked by birds, wasps' nest, which fell into the spine to the ankles and lost in my socks. In short, you understand. I mean when you become deaf and swinging down the street and pick up cigarettes and eyes rotate quickly and rotate along the axis like a globe. So you say you are crazy, stupid, ricchione, anarchic, Southerner, and pathophobia. View objects that move and talk to your VCR, but especially you are sure to be Spider-Man. Smears on a wall and throwing cobwebs hang from the chandelier and leave the house via the window. Cross the street swinging on a spider web and people see only the blue and red of your suit that is reflected in the beautiful sky. Being Spider-Man is not for everyone and can not be said for all mica. It takes a normal work habits and discrete. The first required capacity for the spider man is camouflage, to blend into the crowd and carry on quietly in traffic and offices. To be like others you'll need to sweat like the others and wake up early in the morning. Nothing would take to pull off the web and fiuu cross the road and take fiuu underground. Being Spider-Man means being first and foremost a man. Of course if I had tried to launch a web or a subway stop in the race, as in the film Spiderman, which then means more Spider-Man, I knew from my wrists there would not be able to leave anything other than my blood that I was foolish. And even the superforce never actually used it. When the elevator in my condo did not work I went up three floors on foot and in the end my heart went crazy in the box chest and shortness of breath forever. Never used it but not super powers. At that time I worked in a supermarket and put labels on the boxes with the prices. I knew the prices of memory products. Philadelphia 1700 pounds, 1400 pounds Tuna star pack of 100 grams, Tuna star 200 gram super discount family pack 2100 pounds (bargain), toothpicks Tiger brand pack of 400 lire 2000. The supermemoria was a superpower, but I had not noticed to be spider man and I just thought to be quite intelligent, that's all. Of course I moved deftly through the shelves of the supermarket and when I wanted I could get behind our customers without making a single noise. I would have been a great servant of the supervision of the supermarket but also an excellent accountant and a good teller. The supermarket could count on me. I often stop and think about my physical characteristics, since nothing about these capabilities that I poked and burned my skin in search of your own space. For example, every time I went out in the parking lot of the supermarket and did a long run and crowds to the exit. After the machines were operating from the parking areas and dodge trolleys abandoned in the clearing as remote atolls in the ocean. Be impressed by the speed with which they reach the exit and how easily avoid obstacles that lay before me. Some stopped to watch and will be impressed by my performance. Then I came home all sweaty in my warehouse to repackage expired products to be allocated to humanitarian foundations of the third world and to label salami, toilet paper, razor blades and rat poison. A hot afternoon of resistance to cold, I fell asleep on the packaging. The boxes soft were a good place to sleep and certain hours of the day, when you went back fatigue from the knees up in the back, just very little to lose sleep. I came so sweet to us without even realizing it slipped and dreams confused with reality itself in the confusion of lights and shadows. While senile sank into the swamp of dreams, something I brought to light. An annoying itch on his right arm. I went to scratch and I saw a big spider walking down my arm and stuck to my hair. The scacciai now with your other hand and feet with winds that devil went to spring up in the boxes. Anger began to jump on the empty boxes and that bastard with thirty feet of nothing had become one with the lineolum who was lying on the ground in the store. I remained nervous throughout the day and worked with more zeal and more energetically than usual. Alone I arranged something like eighty cans of tuna in twenty minutes, all directed by the label to the outside of the rack and stack perfectly. I placed also some dry food for cats and boxes of soap cha rotting in storage for months. I felt his biceps bulge and come out the veins and boxes of biscuits flying read in my arms. A great force was vibrating in my muscles tense as steel. So I wanted to test myself and went to the animal department to arrange the bags of sand for cats for ten pounds each. Could to carry two at a time and with what grace! I returned home through the neighborhood quickly, so fast that people could hardly Appoint me as I felt around on the retina and the view was long coming to focus also objects to ten meters and the short-sightedness that has always haunted me seemed to fade and significantly reduced. Something in me was changing. Fatigue caught me off guard on the bed and slipped back into nothing in the dark and impenetrable sleep. I made a convulsive sleep and full of confused images. Metaphors mingled with good and bad omens when you wake up drenched in sweat, the sheets bore witness to the struggles of my neurons. I woke up with a solid vibrating erection in the middle of the thighs and I stayed a couple of minutes in bed waiting for everything to normal to move house. Whence came that strength? What was happening? Taken scratch the bubble that had formed on his arm and suddenly I understood. The bite of the spider in the back of the supermarket I had new energy and commitment I was now to be turning into a sublime! My revenge on the world and all those who said I was stupid to take away from that spider. And the bottom is not really that surprised me because in my heart I was sure to be special, and the superpowers have always harbored in me even if only now becoming aware. I felt all the smells of the earth and all the sounds and I could understand the thoughts of the cat by putting a hand on his head. The prodigy that he was doing was miraculous.
I spoke with one of the maintenance department refrigerators. His name was Andrew and he told me once that he could speak with the dead. It's not that we speak properly, in the sense of a real debate, but he could establish a connection with them through the waves of celebration. They were the dead that were put in touch with him and he could only listen to them without being able to ask them questions. He had bought a book that dealt with the paranormal to read up on his case, and had discovered that a one-way medium. According to the book he was a kind of receiving antenna between two different sizes. When he told me, I believed him and then had a claim against him. I told him that I had to tell him one thing and that we should speak for themselves. He understood that it was something delicate and stayed all day in silence until we had the opportunity to speak for themselves. I told him everything. I told him that I was Spider Man. At first, Andrea was left baffled, and said that I was completely mad. That bastard of a visionary who dared to speak with the dead tell me that I was the fool. He said that I needed to get out and go to women and to stop being alone with these fantasies. I yelled after him in the face of women I could have as many as I wanted and I was disappointed because I thought he was a person more sensitive than others and since we had that thing was just one of the dead shit and maybe it was him who needed to go to women. I worked like a rabid dog all day and moved tons of sand bags for cats just for the sake of moving them. Customers of the supermarket sensed my envy and held at bay in their ideal range of distance from danger. If only I could I would turn everything into a giant cocoon of cobwebs. However I was sure that my will would be enough to do it. Andrea took my ass all day and every time we pass the store, pretending to climb the walls, or put you on the ground to walk like spiders. It was from that day that did not speak to anyone. With anyone. People thought I was crazy, and my aphonia made them crazy, but I keep a secret. I left work and I rintanai in my room. I planned things and big plans to save people and to restore order in the city. Everything was simple in my eyes and the spark of madness had made me blind now, away from any glimmer of intelligence and sense of reality. I went on in these conditions for another three months. I was thin and sharp bones sticking out from under the skin, the muscles that I thought steel had collapsed and they were dried, attached to the bone with the cotton of my visions. The only night I had nightmares and the fear of the dark. I felt anger at all, and was looking for revenge for the crimes that had not yet suffered the injustices and who still had not come upon me. I began at that time watching television, especially the show. I preferred them to the movies because I had the time to learn the character and familiar. So while I was with eyes drawn by the flourishes in the cracks saved, watched TV all day. At eleven o'clock in the morning on three rai gave the lady in yellow. "Murder She Wrote" was the title of the series, but in Naples called the lady in yellow. The protagonist Jessica Fletcher was a lady about sixty in each episode that was to do with a murder. Often when the body was not part of his circle of acquaintances, was summoned by his friend the policeman who asked her to help him solve the case. Jessica Fletcher was old and wrinkled, but he had nerve and courage. She did not need any super power to solve mysteries, but Spider-Man, he used only his powerful mind and a capacity to process murder incredible dynamic. His secret was the experience. Jessica Fletcher, the rough and almost dead Jessica Fletcher c'aveva balls and was out of this discussion. There was no lawyer who killed his wife rich accountant who killed his wife, rich, rich doctor who killed his wife that he was able to escape the intuition detective Jessica Fletcher. I remained very impressed by an episode where a gay hairdresser killing her rich boyfriend. The plot was very complex and unpredictable ending. I began to take notes for the new plots to bring the production of the show. In one morning I wrote a whole where the protagonist was a butcher and kill the rich wife. The title of the episode was "thread in the blood." I had a more proletarian and I liked the episodes set in a social context that popular because the audience is reflected more. I gave it my way to the literary imprint telefim. Finally I wrote a masterpiece with a strong autobiographical reasons, was called "Murder in the supermarket" where a worker assigned to the warehouse, after repeated provocations by a colleague of his mentally unstable, killed in the parking lot of the supermarket with bags of flints for cats. Jessica Fletcher pecked the murderess and hear his explanations do not denounced as intentionally caused by the mentally unstable. Autocensurai some scenes of explicit violence where the protagonist of the brain crumbled psychologically reducing the soupy consistency. Rilegai imbustai everything and in a large manila envelope. I sent the yellow envelope to the study of Rai Tre in Naples, where every day Jessica Fletcher turned the episode and waited. It was from that time onwards, I decided that I would become a private investigator. 
I was convinced that the spider man for four months, between May and August dell'ottantanove exactly. I was not talking to anyone and I sat all day holed up in the damp corners of the house. I attended the garages and cellars, lofts and basements. I knew I had superpowers typical spider man, those of which we are all familiar with through TV or comics, but in fact they never used them. Can not rule out that I was crazy, that my brain had been twisted, melted, rotten, expired, pecked by birds, wasps' nest, which fell into the spine to the ankles and lost in my socks. In short, you understand. I mean when you become deaf and swinging down the street and pick up cigarettes and eyes rotate quickly and rotate along the axis like a globe. So you say you are crazy, stupid, ricchione, anarchic, Southerner, and pathophobia. View objects that move and talk to your VCR, but especially you are sure to be Spider-Man. Smears on a wall and throwing cobwebs hang from the chandelier and leave the house via the window. Cross the street swinging on a spider web and people see only the blue and red of your suit that is reflected in the beautiful sky. Being Spider-Man is not for everyone and can not be said for all mica. It takes a normal work habits and discrete. The first required capacity for the spider man is camouflage, to blend into the crowd and carry on quietly in traffic and offices. To be like others you'll need to sweat like the others and wake up early in the morning. Nothing would take to pull off the web and fiuu cross the road and take fiuu underground. Being Spider-Man means being first and foremost a man. Of course if I had tried to launch a web or a subway stop in the race, as in the film Spiderman, which then means more Spider-Man, I knew from my wrists there would not be able to leave anything other than my blood that I was foolish. And even the superforce never actually used it. When the elevator in my condo did not work I went up three floors on foot and in the end my heart went crazy in the box chest and shortness of breath forever. Never used it but not super powers. At that time I worked in a supermarket and put labels on the boxes with the prices. I knew the prices of memory products. Philadelphia 1700 pounds, 1400 pounds Tuna star pack of 100 grams, Tuna star 200 gram super discount family pack 2100 pounds (bargain), toothpicks Tiger brand pack of 400 lire 2000. The supermemoria was a superpower, but I had not noticed to be spider man and I just thought to be quite intelligent, that's all. Of course I moved deftly through the shelves of the supermarket and when I wanted I could get behind our customers without making a single noise. I would have been a great servant of the supervision of the supermarket but also an excellent accountant and a good teller. The supermarket could count on me. I often stop and think about my physical characteristics, since nothing about these capabilities that I poked and burned my skin in search of your own space. For example, every time I went out in the parking lot of the supermarket and did a long run and crowds to the exit. After the machines were operating from the parking areas and dodge trolleys abandoned in the clearing as remote atolls in the ocean. Be impressed by the speed with which they reach the exit and how easily avoid obstacles that lay before me. Some stopped to watch and will be impressed by my performance. Then I came home all sweaty in my warehouse to repackage expired products to be allocated to humanitarian foundations of the third world and to label salami, toilet paper, razor blades and rat poison. A hot afternoon of resistance to cold, I fell asleep on the packaging. The boxes soft were a good place to sleep and certain hours of the day, when you went back fatigue from the knees up in the back, just very little to lose sleep. I came so sweet to us without even realizing it slipped and dreams confused with reality itself in the confusion of lights and shadows. While senile sank into the swamp of dreams, something I brought to light. An annoying itch on his right arm. I went to scratch and I saw a big spider walking down my arm and stuck to my hair. The scacciai now with your other hand and feet with winds that devil went to spring up in the boxes. Anger began to jump on the empty boxes and that bastard with thirty feet of nothing had become one with the lineolum who was lying on the ground in the store. I remained nervous throughout the day and worked with more zeal and more energetically than usual. Alone I arranged something like eighty cans of tuna in twenty minutes, all directed by the label to the outside of the rack and stack perfectly. I placed also some dry food for cats and boxes of soap cha rotting in storage for months. I felt his biceps bulge and come out the veins and boxes of biscuits flying read in my arms. A great force was vibrating in my muscles tense as steel. So I wanted to test myself and went to the animal department to arrange the bags of sand for cats for ten pounds each. Could to carry two at a time and with what grace! I returned home through the neighborhood quickly, so fast that people could hardly Appoint me as I felt around on the retina and the view was long coming to focus also objects to ten meters and the short-sightedness that has always haunted me seemed to fade and significantly reduced. Something in me was changing. Fatigue caught me off guard on the bed and slipped back into nothing in the dark and impenetrable sleep. I made a convulsive sleep and full of confused images. Metaphors mingled with good and bad omens when you wake up drenched in sweat, the sheets bore witness to the struggles of my neurons. I woke up with a solid vibrating erection in the middle of the thighs and I stayed a couple of minutes in bed waiting for everything to normal to move house. Whence came that strength? What was happening? Taken scratch the bubble that had formed on his arm and suddenly I understood. The bite of the spider in the back of the supermarket I had new energy and commitment I was now to be turning into a sublime! My revenge on the world and all those who said I was stupid to take away from that spider. And the bottom is not really that surprised me because in my heart I was sure to be special, and the superpowers have always harbored in me even if only now becoming aware. I felt all the smells of the earth and all the sounds and I could understand the thoughts of the cat by putting a hand on his head. The prodigy that he was doing was miraculous.
I spoke with one of the maintenance department refrigerators. His name was Andrew and he told me once that he could speak with the dead. It's not that we speak properly, in the sense of a real debate, but he could establish a connection with them through the waves of celebration. They were the dead that were put in touch with him and he could only listen to them without being able to ask them questions. He had bought a book that dealt with the paranormal to read up on his case, and had discovered that a one-way medium. According to the book he was a kind of receiving antenna between two different sizes. When he told me, I believed him and then had a claim against him. I told him that I had to tell him one thing and that we should speak for themselves. He understood that it was something delicate and stayed all day in silence until we had the opportunity to speak for themselves. I told him everything. I told him that I was Spider Man. At first, Andrea was left baffled, and said that I was completely mad. That bastard of a visionary who dared to speak with the dead tell me that I was the fool. He said that I needed to get out and go to women and to stop being alone with these fantasies. I yelled after him in the face of women I could have as many as I wanted and I was disappointed because I thought he was a person more sensitive than others and since we had that thing was just one of the dead shit and maybe it was him who needed to go to women. I worked like a rabid dog all day and moved tons of sand bags for cats just for the sake of moving them. Customers of the supermarket sensed my envy and held at bay in their ideal range of distance from danger. If only I could I would turn everything into a giant cocoon of cobwebs. However I was sure that my will would be enough to do it. Andrea took my ass all day and every time we pass the store, pretending to climb the walls, or put you on the ground to walk like spiders. It was from that day that did not speak to anyone. With anyone. People thought I was crazy, and my aphonia made them crazy, but I keep a secret. I left work and I rintanai in my room. I planned things and big plans to save people and to restore order in the city. Everything was simple in my eyes and the spark of madness had made me blind now, away from any glimmer of intelligence and sense of reality. I went on in these conditions for another three months. I was thin and sharp bones sticking out from under the skin, the muscles that I thought steel had collapsed and they were dried, attached to the bone with the cotton of my visions. The only night I had nightmares and the fear of the dark. I felt anger at all, and was looking for revenge for the crimes that had not yet suffered the injustices and who still had not come upon me. I began at that time watching television, especially the show. I preferred them to the movies because I had the time to learn the character and familiar. So while I was with eyes drawn by the flourishes in the cracks saved, watched TV all day. At eleven o'clock in the morning on three rai gave the lady in yellow. "Murder She Wrote" was the title of the series, but in Naples called the lady in yellow. The protagonist Jessica Fletcher was a lady about sixty in each episode that was to do with a murder. Often when the body was not part of his circle of acquaintances, was summoned by his friend the policeman who asked her to help him solve the case. Jessica Fletcher was old and wrinkled, but he had nerve and courage. She did not need any super power to solve mysteries, but Spider-Man, he used only his powerful mind and a capacity to process murder incredible dynamic. His secret was the experience. Jessica Fletcher, the rough and almost dead Jessica Fletcher c'aveva balls and was out of this discussion. There was no lawyer who killed his wife rich accountant who killed his wife, rich, rich doctor who killed his wife that he was able to escape the intuition detective Jessica Fletcher. I remained very impressed by an episode where a gay hairdresser killing her rich boyfriend. The plot was very complex and unpredictable ending. I began to take notes for the new plots to bring the production of the show. In one morning I wrote a whole where the protagonist was a butcher and kill the rich wife. The title of the episode was "thread in the blood." I had a more proletarian and I liked the episodes set in a social context that popular because the audience is reflected more. I gave it my way to the literary imprint telefim. Finally I wrote a masterpiece with a strong autobiographical reasons, was called "Murder in the supermarket" where a worker assigned to the warehouse, after repeated provocations by a colleague of his mentally unstable, killed in the parking lot of the supermarket with bags of flints for cats. Jessica Fletcher pecked the murderess and hear his explanations do not denounced as intentionally caused by the mentally unstable. Autocensurai some scenes of explicit violence where the protagonist of the brain crumbled psychologically reducing the soupy consistency. Rilegai imbustai everything and in a large manila envelope. I sent the yellow envelope to the study of Rai Tre in Naples, where every day Jessica Fletcher turned the episode and waited. It was from that time onwards, I decided that I would become a private investigator.
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