How Much Do Truffles Sell For

VIII - The Blind

[ Author: Valeria ]

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Instinct made me bring my hand to the genitals to make sure there were more. I had never weighed my balls with such pleasure!
These people were made worse for me and their fucking specchio era solo un'olografia della solita foto di Denise. I capelli, i vestiti e la posizione erano quelli della foto. Mi mossi alzando un braccio. L’immagine riflessa rimase immobile, poi con uno scarto di qualche secondo seguì il mio movimento.
Mi voltai verso i presenti con espressione trionfante, sicuro che avrebbero accolto la sconfitta con dignità. Ma eravamo rimasti in pochi.

I soliti due pesci lessi dall’aria finto angelica, la vecchia presa dal suo ruolo e l’uomo "non male" dalle caviglie fini e dal pastrano fuori moda. Avrei voluto assomigliargli un po’, almeno nell’aspetto, forse Denise si è lasciata affascinare da questo stronzo con le lenti bianche. Invece di stare con me and live happily, and I always drunk and she always cooked and maybe pregnant. This shit would have been nice to invite to dinner one night and throw up the soul on the table just arrived. Denise potutto would be a nice trip in front of him and maybe give her a dose. So people look for the emotion, widening his wallet in front of people like us.
I began to assemble the rage. That just blind, but for real. What we did not need gimmicks to be pseudo paranormal to kill someone. He had escaped the eyes of my lady and they were still free to play with mirrors. I did not know if they had been or herself to imagine and put into practice what dirty that I was touched to find down on the floor of the room.
With a grin I turned to the old woman who seemed very distraught by my behavior. He looked at me like watching a child who does not want to play the game that the adults want to impose. "Oh, do not you see I know the old 'I Do you remember the' Richard? But I am not drunk the mica cooked as you know Denise!"
They had all joined forces against me and I could not understand me or get out of this situation. One of the angels deficient handed me a glass and I took it as I always do and threw it down. I lost consciousness and woke up with the usual pungent smell of the filth of the garbage bin behind the bar. "Here I find myself now" satisfied and I thought to get up. With groping hand found the edge of the box and lifted his head out. It was pitch dark. So dark as to appear even more dark of night, a dark compact. I was frightened and began to scream.
rear entrance of the bar came murdered in person to pull me out. "Feel good Riccardino, if not the finish I call the one hundred and eighteen mobile psychiatric unit! You can not go on like this you understand?! And take off those fucking white contact lenses that you wear when you're completely drunk and you forget the terrors ! You seem to really Marilyn Manson! "
"But you've seen you? What spilungo with the 'hat and' coat? There were also dresses with the old with frills ... "but the Truce is already back in the bar to work. When you know that for a few days so I do not see why I have to put on my nerves. So, after staying some time with his back resting comfortably against the wall , I walk away and go home. Then I realize I have something in their pockets. It's usually old and tattered book.