Willing safe-crossing for these lame elderly navigating the 4-5 lanes of traffic. The only possible method for them is to hazard the lines one by one like the greatest parody of football players achieving acreage. Still never a accident. So many nights. So many crossings. A fine arrangement between pedestrian and driver.
....Ah my darlings. My sweet angels. Can they be fully seventeen? Orange blossom flounced dress and cupped young pert breasts. As if their full budded beauty needed emphasizing. – No sentimentally you dolt. You stupid foolish thing. So richly did you sup on all that pretense. You stupid. Shut the fuck up and no more.
- Giant teenage girls too to throw one into the bottom of the pit. Dashed brains. Drowning in one’s vomit. One point nine five easily. Could easily be over two metres. This companion a woeful judge. As tall as you, she thought sufficient for surprise. Nineteen at the most. A little short-arse, spectacles and head-band, she had under her affectionate clasp, arm drapped from on high. A local more than likely. The pimps couldn't do anything with her. Dear girl, may your path be bordered by primroses.
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