SIAMO DISPERATI.
MIA CUGINA HA QUATTRO ANNI ED E' SPACCIATA.
SI PIAZZA DI FRONTE AL TELEVISORE, SCHIAFFA I BARBAPAPA' NEL LETTORE E SI ECLISSA. MIA ZIA LE HA PROVATE TUTTE PER FARLA DISINTOSSICARE, LE HA PERSINO OFFERTO UNA DOSE DI EROINA PURA AL 90% MA NIENTE. PREFERISCE I BARBAPAPA'. MI HA GUARDATO STORTO, HA DETTO: - SE SOLO TI AZZARDI A TOCCARE IL DVD TI CASTRO A MORSI, POI MI TAGLIO LA GOLA E FACCIO RICADERE LA COLPA SULLA TUA FOLLIA.
COI BARBAPAPA' NON SI CAZZEGGIA.
PS: Red (SFATTINO "WHY QULCUNO SA ') AND' THE BEST 'OF ALL WHEAT.
... Well you '... I too have feelings.
OBVIOUS, TO-BARBAPAPA 'AND ALL THE THINGS THAT DO NOT EXIST!
This made me laugh from underneath the PISC: WATCH THEM that drunk 'in between. WAS CONVINCED THAT HAD THE LUXURY TAXI.
IF YOU HAVE NOT EVER THINK THAT MAYBE THIS BLOG ARE ignorant. YOU'VE
Azzecca FULL!
TAKE YOUR HISTORY BETWEEN LEARNED the classroom and put it WHERE THE HEART He was born Along with the book.
IF THINGS DO NOT CHANGE, AND HAVE NEVER CHANGED, FUCK THE PAST USED mythologized?
MASTURBIAMOCI envisage the future ... EVEN IF IT IS NOT POSSIBLE '; THE EXCEPTIONAL' It is easy to hypothesize TECHNOLOGY NO ...
I HAVE USED A TIME MACHINE TO GO IN ROME 2015.
looks so '.
TO ANYONE I showed my photo and 'Pleased.
SATISFIED ALL HAVE FAILED.
MORALS AND ': Mammon ITALIAN MIDDLE EAST TIMOR AND THE CHURCH OF GOD CONTINUE TO LOVE DICTATORSHIP, RED OR BLACK THAT IS.
THE ONLY THING THAT YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR LIFE AND THE 'DICTATORSHIP OF THE COLOR THAT YOU rule'.
DIFFICULT THINKING WITH HIS HEAD, EH?
THERE ' Problem, there is' THE DICTATOR FRIEND TO SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS.
NOT 'wonderful?
LOVE LIFE EASIER.
I promised to publish the story of Christmas is coming, but longer and more ambitious than I thought, so referring to next week.
BUT: it is rather a long story short MiniStore or 11?
The choice is yours.
Thank you for choosing our company odiotarantino and bon voyage.
C'E 'a fifth dimension, beyond what the man already' KNOW. AND 'NO LIMITS AS THE PUBLIC DEBT, AND' NO TIME LIKE A DAY WITHOUT VODKA. AND 'THE MIDDLE REGION BETWEEN LIGHT AND DARKNESS DELL'IGNORANZA, TRA LA SCIENZA UFFICIALE E LA SUPERSTIZIONE MERIDIONALE, TRA L'OSCURO BARATRO DELLA DIPENDENZA TELEVISIVA E LE VETTE LUCROSE DELLA CLASSE DIRIGENZIALE. E' LA REGIONE DELL'IMMAGINAZIONE, UNA REGIONE CHE ORMAI SI TROVA... OLTRE I CONFINI DELL'IRREALTA'.
Ero andato in ufficio per recuperare una penna stilografica regalatami da mia madre prima di morire. Dovevo assolutamente buttarla nell'immondizia. Volevo scordarla, coi suoi chili di troppo nella pelle e nel cervello. Sentii delle grida disperate che mi fecero accapponare la pelle tanto da potervi praticare un piercing con un semplice utensile (una penna stilografica, per esempio). Con le spalle al muro, silenziosamente, mi diressi verso lo strazio. Fui scoperto all'istante. There were about twenty employees on their knees on pieces of metal in the shape of a cross, the type of nails to puncture tires special special special enemies. Kneecaps dug, a river of tears mixed with an ocean of blood. Bits of flesh, fingers, ears cut off. And cries. Involuntarily I joined the choir, unable to bear all the atrocious inhumanity created in the room. "Why, son of a bitch, why?". The Executioner took off his scarlet cap, revealing to me, to torture the identity working behind the massacre. "Hi, Nardinocchi. Do not think badly. I'm not having fun. " I was petrified as a village ravaged by zombie western Indians. "How can you do ...". The Executioner fell to his knees. "We shtà the crisis. We are making staff cuts. "
shtava I agreed on the crisis there. Having an extra bag size, I picked up what was left of my colleagues. Christmas dinner that I could afford a respectable, at no cost.
was so that I could come out unscathed.
Until it was my turn. For me
saws I need someone with hands and fingers.
Now I'm a dog.
Two years ago the death of a dear friend of mine (can not remember the name). Motorcycle accident. A car crossed the road, knocking him back against a pole. A death for granted, for the type in question. The beautiful and damned surrounded by females, perpetually drugged. A dying mother to look after. Many dreams, so many silences. And he smiled. Floating on the sea of \u200b\u200bshit in his own way.
This morning I went to visit a friend of mine (can not remember the name). I was there like an idiot when I found a note attached to the door of his house. "I went to the office to take a certain pen to throw away." On the way home the traffic light has forced me to stop. To mislead the boredom of mundane household appliance city in three lights, I've had a look around. There was a panel where they are posted on the obituaries, next to the panel of parties organized by local tourist. The picture of my beautiful and damned friend (at this moment remember name) was watching me expressionless. I had forgotten. The photos helped me to create a link macabre, though he was born and native families gather to celebrate the birth of something that will be whipped, spat, crucified a few months later, although the official talk of 33 years of incessant activity shamanic. There was his picture there, including many photos, next to the chestnuts and "fish in the Snow" sponsored by the local tourist board, because the second anniversary of his death.
I rushed to the mall, I jostle about twenty minutes but I was lucky. It was the last one left. I managed to win a copy of the commemorative compilation of the second year without Luca Marzetti. Double CD plus DVD of the live, even if it seemed macabre, found the business of publishing a live one dead.
Sitting in front of you a good rum, Caribbean music in the background, I discussed with the madness. I asked how I could live with that she continued to sing loudly in my head. He said: "Do not listen to me." I said: "It is impossible, I can not." He said: "arranged. Everyone does his job. " I've thought about, I gave up. There shtà the crisis, one must invent an original work. From now on I'll be crazy in the neighborhood. If you're tired of your pet or if you hate your home call me human. Act and clean up for little money. I also accept payments in organic food. I do not eat the crap supermarkets. I want to live forever. Without getting bored.
I moved away from the makeshift operating table in the kitchen cabinet, with a strange song in his mouth. I took the jar of formaldehyde. The cat did not resist, I made a small injection of ketamine. I stuffed her kittens because they would not die. I went into the room. The dog barked, not understand the actions of humans. I stuffed her puppies. They had raised between me and her. I can not stand to be overshadowed. When the sedative has stopped making them docile, the dog and the cat have a fight. Biting. is scratched. They destroyed the furniture in the room and died. Now I'm alone. I do pears but there is no relief. I feel lonely, so I decided to clean up, buy a bunch of flowers and a cake, going to visit my sister. It is a special day. Gave birth.
ask me how do I do with all this snow babysitter. They do not know what hunger pangs you push down. I arrived at the gypsy camp two weeks ago. Still do not suspect me, when the cries of a mother who finds her children more than overwhelm the monotony of the day all the same, I take the guitar and sang Djobi Djoba. The police arrived, they screamed, flew beatings. I was unmoved. I knelt with his hands behind his head, I finished chewing the last of the femur. They are in prison. They ask me how do I do babysitting in the snow. Lighting a cigarette, I reveal my secret. "Just boil them in oil seasoned with marjoram 42 minutes, not one more." We shook hands. They released me because I am a white man born and raised here. I had to invent a job, with all queshta crisis. Work for the police. They show me the gypsy camp, I'm going to look after the children. Are respected and well liked, so that at Christmas they had a great collection to give me a brand new ZF Famenco Hanika. And I sing, sing, chew, chew. When there is more I will promote the immigration problem assistant to the Caritas. With this crisis, the homeless have increased dramatically. There is room for everyone.
We grew up together. He was my best friend. I chose the numbers, he music. I was confined in my home town. In our home town. Each album sells 100,000 copies a week before publication. He set a new record for advance sales. They say that his music is successful because his manager, the same as Elvis Presley, massive doses of hiding subliminal messages in each song. Who listens to his music becomes a servant in the first round of A. After the B-side musicodipendenti are irreversible. Do not listen to his music and I feel betrayed. It has everything you could want. Cars, money, women, even be able to (the manager has done tile on a motorcycle gang expert in plagiarism and Satanists neurolinguistic programming through music therapy reverse). I took a single, well-deserved satisfaction. When encountered, try asking for an autograph. Be careful as the pupils break out, when you carry a pen and paper. Guardategli hands. The right hand trembles. The left remains still, as if it were metal. I do not know what material is made of the hearing, but his hand the original kept in a jar hidden in the hood of the fireplace where they are now stuck upside down, while a long-haired is lighting the fire that will consume my face, teeth, eyes. I got myself la rivincita; non ho fatto bene i conti.
Hanno ingaggiato un roadie per suonare le sue parti di chitarra.
Non ha più bisogno delle mani.
Oggi Mamma è strana Mi ha portato qui anche se ho disobbedito, non ho fatto i compiti, non ho lavato i denti prima di andare a dormire, non ho mangiato le verdure, ho disegnato sulle scarpe della zia. Dentro c'erano gocce di un liquido bianco e vischioso . Zia ha detto che in quelle gocce c'erano milioni di bambini che mai nasceranno, e io ho riso per farle piacere ma non ho capito. Poi abbiamo giocato alle bambole. Cammino sui tacchi, mi accarezzo le gambe velate delle sue calze a rete. Non mi vergogno. In mezzo ai pantaloni sento muoversi qualcosa. Diventa più grosso. La zia mi ha spiegato that is not just for peeing, showing what can be done. He said they are a favorite of his grandchildren. Nobody did it like me sigh. I laughed, the sighs are a thing as ghosts. It came to mom, we played the doctor, the doctor and walk ill. They made me get a stick in the little hole from behind until I heard it in the middle of the nipples. I could not talk anymore. Back home, I could not do anything. I have not done my homework, I did not eat dinner. I could not shake the brush to brush my teeth. I was all a pain. This morning we got into the car. I looked without understanding, I could hear talking on the phone. He was saying that his aunt had to go to elementary Piazza Garibaldi to take another nephew. They are not my real mother and my aunt. No matter, it was my favorite family. I bought the popcorn and we visited all the cages of the zoo, then he said he was going to do some shopping, and left me with the keeper. He became a night. Do not come to pick me up. It's cold, I fear, the lion is waking up, the cage is closed, the man with the camera does not respond, as if it did not exist. The sighs of the ghost. I do not know if I exist outside my head. The cheeks are bleeding, the nose on the ground. Lion chews. Cameraman laughs, screams: "With this film we pay three months in Cote d'Azur."
I went to Jenny to give me the manicure Japanese to appear beautiful papers. I'll be stupid? Photographing the faces, not the details. I do it for myself. Do not ever do things for others.
I'm sick. Every day we hear a different one. The economic crisis. The girl killed by friends addicts. And the influences. Influences. How I hate the flu. Every year I take the kids to the pediatrician to get the bites. The drugs do not work, I get sick every winter. Never mind. I'm calmer. Even the kids are quiet. They are good, do what I say without repeating twice. I see the children of my friends and I feel lucky. Do not wash their hands before lunch. Do not brush their teeth. Luigi does not sit at the table before they wash into the pot with boiling water and salt. The teachers ask him what you did in your hands every day and he is forced to invent excuses poor because they are stupid, they do not understand anything. They do not understand germs, bacteria. In our body there are metals. Hands should be washed in hot water with salt to prevent them from oxidizing. When we do get a fever with milk and honey eucalyptus. We do not feel the taste of things. It's good. Every now and then we begin to burst the bubbles on the tongue. I want a lot of good to my children. I do not understand why the bastard's father ran off. Washed once a day, does not cover it in the summer then I said I was crazy. I want a lot of good to my children, so I want to kill it before the H1N1. The the television said, is very dangerous. I made them vaccinated twice a year even if the drugs do not work. My fragile children will not be another damned flu.
And before the pneumonia, then the salmonella, then SARS.
They have black veins. Customers
I do not calculate. I am convinced that I'm not worth a butt just because he wears a stupid uniform and I always be polite to the contract, even with rude. Once one has even slapped me and the manager said I deserved it. Prior to slap me spit. I did not do it on purpose. I accidentally pressed the lever, the transpallets carry a platform with which water has fallen on his foot. No, not true. He deserved it, was giving me trouble. I have not lost their jobs for a nap. They kept me because the customer has not complained. I worked three months for free to compensate for the guy. "The image of the first," said the director when I was explaining that I would have to compensate the customer for not doing so by the police to go and finish the papers together with the scandals of others. They are always polite and I have lost patience.
I went to kindergarten with false documents. The teachers did not flinch. Perhaps the teachers are dependent on the pills they give to little kids for the afternoon nap. I went to the lane DIY, I've dropped a knife edge with the yellow and blacks I've skinned son the Director. Not even a scream. I want to go to kindergarten for the medicine of peace. When I removed the skin from the body of the bastard appeared to me to peel a boiled tomato. "Svlllullush" did. The skin I skewered sull'attaccapanni so it can no longer blame me for the mess too. I smashed his teeth then I've piled in a corner with a broom, cleaning up all the blood, so we'll see if he can tell me that this place is a pigsty.
I sit and wait. The director does not come. I'm going to talk to capocassa, white as a mackerel. He says it's a tragedy happened. The director and his wife were mowed down by a pirate of the road. I fall on my knees in despair. Even
This time the director will tell me that I was good, even if I tried hard.
take control of your money. Do you require your money. Have you earned. You are entitled to. Robbery
the homeless, do not nothing happens. Do not give a shit to anyone. How do I ...
is not entirely true that nobody cares for bloody bums. They are the scavengers of consciousness of guilt. Who does not feel guilty today? People see the dirty homeless people vomit on the roadside, believed to be starving wretches. It's bullshit. If you earn for 100, 150 € per day? They did. They just drag the process into the toilet, crying, pleading. Are covered with rags to rekindle old feelings outdated. No longer exist. They could afford full of Armani, but not filthy fools. "Please, I'm hungry, I have twelve children to support," they always say. "Eat one of your fucked up," shouted through clenched teeth while the lunge punch in the ears. I squirm when sbellico scraping the pavement with dirty fingernails of piss and shit. They make a strange sound, ghhhhghhhh. Before the "Grab Bag" wearing two pairs of gloves. The bastards have all the pockets. Once there I found a chewed biscuit. I must be careful. Among them is the legend began to circulate of the murder of homeless people. Tremble. But we are being watched. They are like a tribe. Instead of combining their money, companies get in, open a business, guadagnarsi da vivere onestamente, supplicano, supplicano e supplicano. Troppo comodo. Non leggono giornali. Parlano tra loro. Si sono preparati. Ieri ho fatto un giro nei pressi della stazione. Mi sono messo i guanti, ho rovistato. Non c'era niente in tasca di quel morto di fame. Solo una siringa gocciolante. Mi sono punto ma ho non ho smesso di racimolare la grana. Sono soldi della gente perbene. Io sono uno perbene. Mi spettano quei soldi. Mia figlia vuole un I-Pad. Non posso deluderla.
Ogni bernoccolo come un broccolo, diceva sempre la buon'anima di nonno. Il mio paese è l'unico a non essere cambiato. Il “progresso” come lo chiamano, è nostro nemico. Televisioni, tostapane elettrici, telefoni cellulari. Noi no. Ne andiamo fieri. We must preserve, honor, respect traditions. The past is the only thing we have. We live in the past, others have sold out and now they are all crazy. Field of air bubbles. They have become slow, fat, stupid. We have sent away to kick your ass when the boys have come a suit of telephone bids. We will not bend. We remain true to what we have always been.
Salloreto.
203 inhabitants until tomorrow, then we will be 202. Grandma is sick for a long time, is tired of fighting. He knows he can do not. He lost.
We decided together.
Now. Who knows
asks how can we live like this. Like what? They do not know, do not want to know. Our è vera democrazia, ognuno ha diritto di voto, persino i bambini. Loro hanno poliziotti, magistrati, deputati, senatori, presidenti e sotto, sotto sotto c'è il popolo convinto di contare, di avere voce in capitolo. Qui abbiamo un sindaco simbolico. È sindaco, barbiere e ottimo panettiere. Il suo voto vale uno come il mio, come quello di tutti. Tenetevi la finta democrazia, l'ipocrisia. Noi ci incontriamo, ci salutiamo, ci abbracciamo. Siamo tutti fratelli. Voi vi trovate nel traffico, pieni d'odio e dello schifo che provate per le vostre esistenze, vi massacrate di botte come animali, siete divisi. Vi odiate e odiate. Ognuno invidia chi sta sopra. Qui non esiste la parola invidia, non c'è ne “sopra” ne “sotto”. Equality. Equality does not have any money. Just understand it. Just want it. We live happy. We make decisions together. We just work a few hours a day to produce what is necessary to live, then we do what we want, all together. We have marginalized those outside, pretend that there Salloreto. There is not even on the map, cartographers have paid to forget. They do not want people to know that there is a place where I'm like you and we are all equal time. For the higher powers do not like equality. Let's party because it is a festive because we respect life. There are no laws, there is no need. No robberies, no rapes, no fisticuffs. Everyone gets what he wants with the consent of the other.
We are excited today. We are preparing the farewell party for her grandmother. The ceremonial pole was sprinkled with oil to make the party happy. I spoke with my grandmother. He's happy. He can not wait. He said he is tired of living, the body is giving so much unhappiness.
oil drips from the pole, while sausages and hams are attached on top, waiting to be taken by the child faster. It is a greasy pole salloretese. Go, go on dictionaries. What a fool, I have not given the progress of your loved one. Check your internet. No one talks about, there.
tie her grandmother to the pole with a rope made of jute. We all lined up, one after another. In turn, we lash out at her, looking give her a nice head. The first fifty aim stomach. Then it's all a game to the face. The oil serves to make it move more smoothly. When someone goes to hit the post everyone laughs, even the grandmother. It is a champion in this game. Pure talent. Nobody plays the tree of plenty salloretese more than once. You have one chance and you can not have practiced. Kai Spires is the first to center. Grandma says it was good, and spits the upper dental arch. Twenty other people do not fire. Barbero Saugli made us sbellicare. You stumbled, he slammed his temple and was paralyzed. They've had to remove an eye. It happens! Varendo Millets has a fake crazy beautiful her grandmother, when she broke her neck with a head upright. It is a technique that only few can develop a fast implementation. When you hit your throat you have to be quick to exploit the speed of action, lift jerked his head to hit his chin like a hook. A hit like that disintegrates the jaw, shattering a carotid artery. When we start with the birthday girl dies salloretini. We must crush the body with sticks. It takes hours, rolling up the bones take a long time. At a time when the body has reached the size of a kitchen towel, the mayor does rub along the back post to make it oily. At this point, the children climb to get the prizes. You jerk, you take to punch, you pull your hair. Someone falls and injures himself badly. Can choose whether to live or to become the birthday of the week after.
We love our country, our traditions and we do not care of others. When there will be no one, Salloreto Salloreto cease to exist because it exists only for us. The mayor, our beloved father, he loves us in turn. Here are all his sons and the flesh, unlike you off, does it really well.
You hate your children, forced them to do what you like dumb dogs.
He respects us.
are elderly, can not have children and will suffer greatly. We were forbidden to mate with us. We are happy the same. You il suo sogno. Lui l'ha creato, lui è l'unico ad avere il diritto di scegliere di distruggerlo.
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