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this is a game. what is the title to this poem? He sits at home watching the his only job folding clothes playing warcraft in his mind level 19 like a ticking clock he waits for her to come home In his dream He stands there at the podium, facing the crowd power deals him power she stands there behind him stealing time in his shadow taking everything she can and driving him on The lights shine in his eyes and turn everything to white and he is suddenly home again a in the shade of a tree that he remembers old, majestic. he is playing with her again she brings a piece of folded paper times back and forth she asks you to pick a fortune He walks home from playing with her they are best friends inseparable holls houses two wives somedays two husbands peas and carrots she doesn't want to go home he is happy He climbs the stairs in his mind the white house and pulls the cord to the attic there is a small window there he looks out onto the yard. the airplanes he build yesterday are before him 12 from the luftwaffe the gerbils in his room run their habitrail the male eats the so the female watchs him carefully spinning the wheel and running in place as fast as he can. they look like a family of small kangaroos with tufts upon their tail He shakes it off and stands alone in the empty home he was the one who stayed home to watch the for some reason he is suddenly afraid the car that passes in the street has a sinister gleam who could it be She comes home and expects her feet to be rubbed she is his He sleeps she quietly walks upstairs into her second life as a submissive The crowd cheers and screams in the shadows she plays this is her asleep , dream that he is righting all the red wrongs ever done astride a spectral tiger mount All life at bottom is happy. looking for lost free horny friend sarah
There is NEVER a real discussion with him anyway. When he lost his dog after HIS dog killed my daughter's little Yorkie she had for 9 years, HE decided there would be no more dogs. I told him that was unfair since my daughter and I still wanted a pet. He said too bad, HE said no more pets and that's that. But I brought home a little doggie for my daughter anyway. She was so happy to have another little dog, she had done nothing but cry since Tiger had gotten killed. Dickie was furious!! He said "You didn't consult me!" But I knew "consulting" him just meant he would have the to say no. If he never wanted another dog, fine, but it wasn't fair or right for him to say we could never have another one. When he had got his great (the one that killed my daughter's dog, he didn't consult me or ask if it was ok, the same with another dog of his. He TOLD me we were getting these dogs. I was apprehensive because I had never been around big dogs, but he really didn't give me a choice, he just said "it'll be fine." Just like he didn't consult me when he started a business on the side, or he didn't consult me when he bought a new "toy", he just was so excited about getting stuff, I was happy for him. Consulting or discussing things with him is a term he used when he was mad at me for doing the same things he was guilty of without asking first. I NEVER yelled at him for not consulting me about anything, I didn't expect him to consult me. He even got mad at me for not "consulting" him first if I told my daughter she could have a friend spend the night or if I decided to take them to a movie. My whole life began to turn into a consultation with the devil (yes, my husband) while he did EVERYTHING he wanted. Rutland local sexThis is my favorite cartoon strip. My girl she knows she is the tiger. and that I have had always a rough day at school. Yet the first thing when I enter in I am pounced upon. I forget this happens, and every time I need it more. tackle me please. again and again. my best friend. adult black woman
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# Posted by Devine on /07; PM in My Back Pages Captain White Socks and the surly taxidermist Captain White Socks ( ) entered our lives as a small, mostly-tiger kitten that Amity heard about from her camp-bus driver. Such was Cappy's charm that it smote us all at once, even as we gasped at the giant fleas crawling out of his ears and over his tummy. Quick veterinarian action intervened. Years passed, during which Cappy grew large and bold, treating our family with a courtly affection but expecting to be the (neutered) male in his interactions with any outsiders. He was lordly (not to say a bit -) and he well have been chasing a car when he met his end. I had imagined that he (like our other cat -) always stayed in our back yard but kept away from the street. It wasn't so. There was a slight drizzle falling from the sky when I was summoned by the doorbell, and a very contrite driver, to look at Cappy's now limp but still beautiful corpse, spangled with fog drops. To my dismay taxidermists turned me down flat when I asked about getting Cappy "preserved" so that he could lie curled up on some mantel or windowsill. My were baffled. We had been to Chincoteague and seen the body of "mounted" (they don't it "stuffed") for eternal memory. We had stayed in New Zealand with people whose parlors displayed even (now somewhat motheaten) dogs they had loved in their childhood. But even though we were by then in Princeton, NJ, so that I was able to pester taxidermists all the way from NYC to Philadelphia, nobody wanted to "mount" our old Cappy so that we could keep him. "We don't do pets," more than one surly old-timer told me. Meanwhile, in our freezer, Cappy lay curled up in a giant plastic bag surrounded by frozen peas and fudge-ripple ice cream., of course, had a truly unique suggestion: "don't say it's a pet. Tell them I shot it." Somehow, I hadn't the chutzpah to try his method. In the end, finally, I bought some beautiful cloth that was black and, like Cappy, to wrap him up in. We buried him in the back yard. Einstein's back yard, which was our back yard way back then. But if there's a resurrection, Einstein can't have him because we want Cappy back! horny black women looking to get laid nude women Bear county
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