Ronny P.
Yelp
Oh, dirty rondogo if u did that on the floor. to just take a question of caracter. Muffed up my booties on the side. Wonder who that was at the place with the rash collar. Oh my, the frothy whore with a black hatted sailor askeew came hazzardly on the concrete row alongside mr rondog, wet night in the room. any chance of it? stout one be with you in the costume, that one appointment. sees me does she! look in here. in the Nub antique biker saleshop with windows hardly in deer mr. man dear sailor earnestly rondog blazed candlestick oozing bags of curd. bargain: poke stop. roar stick. might learn to play one day ron? cheap, let him pass. course everyone js dear if you dont want it. thats a good saleman, ill take it full to the brim crisp as the razor the swedish man sold me. make u buy what he want sell. hes passing now, pokestop. must be cider or bergeunt. looks bronze from anear gold from afar chicked glasses bright and gallade, bronze as the last shine of summer, summer off the anoles. that one year. tap. young men enter the nub. rons view of a gallade hero in the nubs window. jasons last word. eight last words, that is.
--hello fellow brother we look alike indeed
--i feel the same as you do, nice
--come lift the bronze with us
they lifted.
skunchuk tops stirling thunk
--yes!
-so joe how you blow see that one chimeney shove my eye out with the teeth stick?
-some luck, says joe. i was in there with force too minds to not to give the fellow in charge of the corner to be dammed to sweep per poké per ounce of time at that relative quantity
-oh but joe does that not hold relative to in these parts? to buy at when they sell per poké to ounce at that quantity
-tea and sugar bronze to pay three poke me ol kisssister was just given me a winkle about it
-half one, over bloody paper with alf looking for spicy bits in a basket deadwood in hand
three girls seated on rockbench. woodbench. wood block to bench is bench to woodblock.
-nonsense joe
raising hand to chin.
-i am up to this level i display, am i not?
joe walked long face and silenty. with a heart and a half for a fellow to back him for a poke that was no younger then last weak. as if he could raise the wind anyhow. go nearer to the railing, the bells have sounded. twenty fingers in the folds the bread wrapped in, two old trickles plum juice dribbled from to spitting stones from the railings. a sudden laugh, hearing, beckoned, led towards the window.
so long as they do no worse.