Runboard.com
You're welcome.

runboard.com       Sign up (learn about it) | Sign in (lost password?)


Page:  1  2  3 ... 12  13  14  15 

 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


The Ascent. A musing with an irregular rhythm.

Bloodsteve fell from the sky. It seemed like it was taking forever, that long fall, and the wind beat against him.

-Even higher above, in space-

It was the Nazi space station. It was the one they finished before the Allies breached their national borders. New Penemunde. In the middle was a courtyard. In the courtyard was a fountain that sprayed dark blood instead of crystal waters, and warm blood at that, because warm blood flowed easier.

Alexander Bell-Dawn hiccupped in the midst of a felicitous silence aboard the spacecraft. All of the other Nazis had gone below to Sorto, and now the young colonel found himself alone.

He tossed some darts. The dartboard was not a proper dartboard at all, but a movie poster of Burt Lancaster in Judgment At Nuremburg. The paper eyes had been hit so much, it looked a mesh or something. Horrifying.

-
And just as abruptly as the fall began, Bloodsteve, a prisoner of gravity, touched the earth again, this time bouncing off still-green tomatoes in the open air market down the block from Dealey Plaza.

He indeed bounced into a trough of farm fresh eggs, and then, realizing what happened, shook away the egg gore, the proteins, the sticky albumen.

Then there was a gun barrel in front of his nose. "Ich bin Liszt" said the Nazi holding the gun. "And you are now my prisoner."

"At least you're not one of those scumbags from Cupertino" said Bloodsteve, sighing.

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
1/16/2017, 11:16 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
knights Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Head Administrator
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Some place called England
Posts: 983
Karma: 4 (+4/-0)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Saviour

The man was dragged in by two brown shirts, manhandled briefly, then tossed to Heinz, the prison warder, who began the manhandling again. Heinz beat the living crap out of the him, punches and kicks, blood spilled, the new prisoner and new punchbag for the big man. Eyes peered from bars. Derek stood feet away. His eyebrows raised, he pointed to the man and then to Dave. A look of disappointment. Hope fading. The door to Derek and Beady's barred cell was opened and the man was thrown in.
'Who is he?' Heinz said, shutting the cell, turning the key and locking the door.
'Some lunatic.' A brown shirt responded, beginning to walk away. 'Another Pikesworld resident.'
'Kept mumbling to himself incessantly about Robocop and zombies.' The other brown shirt said, pointing his head and gesturing madness. 'The guy's insane. Mad as a box of frogs.'
'Very well.' Heinz said, examining the man through the bars. 'We have many lunatics here. We're not a prison. This is an insane asylum, for nuts and degenerates.'
Dave sat on his cells commode, mid-!@#$. Exposed, he penis flopped up and down as he jolted to standing position. He eyed Heinz intently. Heinz repeated the madness gesture, pointing to his head and pulling a silly face. Dave frowned.
'Ignore him, Englishman.' Gerard said, jabbing Dave's elbow roughly. 'Finish your !@#$, dammit.'
Dave looked down and then felt for his bottom instinctively. His hand was covered in wet faeces. Dave's belly rumbled and he felt his mouth fill with sick. He arse followed this by an attack of explosive diarrhoea, some of which sprayed Gerard's legs.
'Oh !@#$!' Gerard raged. 'You're getting your !@#$ everywhere!'
'!@#$.' Dave mouthed, a diarrhoea attack in full flow as he grabbed him stomach. 'I am not well.'
Dave collapsed.
'Mon Dieu! You bastards!' Gerard cried, moving to the side of the cell, gripping the bars, proceeding to scream madly as Heinz began to laugh maniacally, as he walked off by without a care.

Beady roused the unknown prisoner by playing his flute out of tune to the theme of AirWolf.
'Derek, that you?' The unknown man said, awaking.
'You know me?' Derek asked, taking interest in the new inmate.
'Pikestown.' The man smiled. 'We've met.'
Derek knelt down, grabbed the man by the shoulders and looked him all over.
'It's me, Derek.'
'Pass me the wall bucket, Beady. And a cloth.'
'Here, here.' Beady said as he stood, passing Derek the bucket. 'Take it.'
Beady dunked the cloth rag in the bucket and passed it to Derek.
'You?' Derek said as he wiped the man's dirty face.
'Bloodsteve.'
Derek gulped.
'Surprise.' Bloodsteve smiled, then coughing out a bloodied tooth.
Derek wiped him down more.
'This is the saviour?' Beady said, pointing with his flute.
'Saviour?' Bloodsteve said, almost laughing. 'Who told you that horseshit?'
'The leader of the uprising.' Derek added. 'Dr Bloodsteve Rockyourface.'
Bloodsteve wiped his eyes, looked around as all the prisoners looked on him in hope, then a loud belly-laughed sounded from him.
Beady picked up his flute again. In tune and sounding very much like the theme to Airwolf, Beady played his finest performance to date, as Derek began to lift Bloodsteve to his feet and raised Bloodsteve's arm in rebellious defiance.
'THE SAVIOUR!' Derek shouted to all, the palm of his hand at Bloodsteve's waist as if showing off a prizefighter.
Bloodsteve didn't know how to react. All the time he a look of bewilderment and confusion, trying to make sense of it all.
The prisoners reacted loudly. Bloodsteve's arrival was greeted with celebration. Perhaps it was Beady's flute playing, or that they had all given up hope, but Bloodsteve presence was messiah-like to them. The only person not react was Dave. He lay unconscious and face first in his own vomit.

The Innkeeper

The hotelier sat alone, crosslegged on the throne at the Sorto reich headquarters. He examined an old document and read aloud.
'The scoundrel will come unannounced, he will fall to earth with a bump, his calling to rise the degenerates and lead the rebellion. It shall come to pass after the fool emperor is slain and the innkeeper is made king. His name is like claret, red, or blood and after he will go by the old English name Steve, Bob, or Gavin. The degenerates will see him as saviour in their despair, but the great reich innkeeper with ultimately destroy him in grounds of the towers.'

A man coughed, acknowledging his presence. The hotelier looked up, smiled and closed the document. The man was brown shirt. He stood on red carpet in a room that looked like a Tudor king's court.
'HEIL WILLEM!' The brown shirt shouted, saluting the hotelier.
'Ah, Dukker!' The hotelier called back. 'King of the gypsies.'
'Yes, mein fuhrer.'
'The planned went perfectly. The boy is captured, ja?'
'Okra's boy, yes. And the daughter.'
'A daughter too?'
'Jess Okra.'
'This boy believes we killed all the gypsies, doesn't he?'
'Terrence his name is. Terrence Okra. The father hasn't a clue of his existence. What's say we torture the kids to get the location of the beast called Bloodsteve, hmm? Well?'
'No, no.' Willem replied. 'Toss them into a cell right next to him, that's torture enough. It'll drive him mad.'
'And me?' Dukker asked.
'Tell the boy everything.'

---

1/18/2017, 1:07 am Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
knights Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Head Administrator
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Some place called England
Posts: 983
Karma: 4 (+4/-0)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Hankerchief

The hotelier practiced goosesteps up and down the red carpet in Sorto Reich headquarters. Swift turns of the head, interspersed with the raised roman salute every other step, he was man out to make an impression. He had to. The power hoisted on him great, his rise to power from faux-hotelier to leader of the Sorto reich was extraordinary. The man couldn't quite believe his luck.
'Heil Willem!' He said, stopping. 'No, Heil Bill! Yes! The parasites! The bugs must be extinguished! Yeah!'
Willem imagined himself at a podium. He studied Hitler's speeches intently. The waving of the hands, the palming of the hair, the tempo and building up to a verbal explosion that would drive the masses wild.
'I have no hair, so what! Needn't matter! I envision the Sorto folk in their thousands. Bald! Bald, the lot of them! We will drive the greater Sorto reich with blitzkreig power through the islands and to Britannia herself! Our power great the third, we're the forth reich! In the spirit of Hitler, a peasant artist, I, I Willem will step forward from obscurity and lead the Sorto revolution!'
Dukker stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, Willem turned around quite embarrassed.
'You must drop talk of revolution, Willem.' Dukker said, waving his finger, stepping out and at slow pace walking forward. 'It's not us.'
'Well, well. I'm learning.'
'You must think different. This isn't the thirties anymore. They did it differently.'
'I walk out to the podium at Sorto towers, the music of Haddaway's 'What is Love' playing, I mime to it and begin dancing in baggy pants? How different?'
'Not Hitler.' Dukker said, shaking his head. 'Hitler was a maniac.'
The hotelier face turned from stone faced to stern in a instant. He pointed angrily to a portrait of elderly Hitler riding an inflatable banana being pulled by a speedboat.
'How dare you!' The hotelier raged.
'Never mind that.' Dukker said, patting the hotelier playfully in the belly.
'Kiss me!' The hotelier said, his faced calm as he stared into Dukker's eyes.
Dukker looked confused. It was then the hotelier dropped a dark red hankerchief on the floor.
'What's this?' Dukker said, stepping back. 'You a pansy or something?'
'The dark red signifies male only pool party for two lovers.' The hotelier announced clasping his hands, then licking his top lip.
'You what! What the!' Dukker cried, horrified. 'Oh, !@#$!'
'Guards!' The hotelier yelled out in panic, his faced reddened, his voice a wavering wreck. 'Guards! Homosexual!'
Dukker stood statue-like. He turned and faced the hotelier. Three guards ran in behind Dukker. They were dressed in SS uniforms, rifles held out for a target.
'Arrest this Homosexual!' The hotelier shouted, smirking as the life drained from Dukker's face. 'Off to prison!'

Dukker grabbed his face with palms of his hands. He was sat in the back of a fast moving prison transit vehicle, handcuffed and shackled at the legs with two others. Dukker tried his best to hide for the sake of the boy, but relented after a few moments.
'Hello, Terrence.' Dukker said, glumly accepting his fate.
'Dukker!? I thought you were dead.'
'Hate to break this to you lad, but the whole island is a lie. All of it.'
'No gypsies?'
'Yep, just actors playing parts. Welcome to the Sorto reich. Nazi reich!'
'All of it?' Terrence asked. 'How the heck did you lot blind me then? Bit elaborate to hoax one small boy?'
'It's in prophecy – The blinded boy.'
'Gee, thanks. Who's the girl?'
Dukker examined the girl, smiled, tapped the boy on the shoulder and whispered: 'Your sister.'
'Sister.' Terrence added.
The girl stayed silent, crossing her arms.
'Daughter of Derek Okra!' Dukker said, raising his voice. 'Meet your brother.'
Jess Okra continued in her silent protest, only momentarily turning to the two and saying one word: 'Lies.'


---

1/18/2017, 10:06 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Isla Von Der Hokkencreucz

A violent gasp, a half-asleep catharsis, sounding like the angry sigh of a crocodile.

Ja, that was it.

Bloodsteve found one single Boywatch ATV from the lifeguards at the beach. He got on it and drove for his life toward the rubble of the 9/11 Beer Empty Salute. Because it was the only thing he could see in the distance thanks to the smoking devestation.

--In the Cave--

The Nazi's came again, and everyone herded against the back wall of the cave to avoid their captors-everyone except Dave, who laid back coolly, as if none of it bothered him.

They tossed a round, but friendly-faced woman into the cave. She lay confused as the Nazi's turned and made their exit.

"Miss O'Jenny!" shouted Derek. "Oh SH*T. If they got you then surely they got my darling Jess!"

"You mean young JarJar Okra" said Dave. "That's what her Uncle Dave calls her, because of her little attitude. Did you know in some cultures parents abandon their girl children, giving them to the government, and then the little wretches are turned into dog food."

INSERT AD FOR REICHSPEACE BRAND DOG FOOD AND DOG SNACK STIX

"The prophecy is coming true" said Derek, horrified. "Mario, your princess is in another castle. Now all they need is the blinded boy."

"Unless they got your boy, already" said Dave. "Easily misled. And here I was thinking of Uncle Davey giving Jarjar a pony ride-but a pretense to sling her into the floor. Her attitude will destroy the Nazi's if they have her. She'll pester them to death."

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
1/22/2017, 9:40 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Back in North America:
River Rouge and Beyond!!!

The 1987 Ford Taurus Police Special advanced on the Eastern Seaboard. Along the way, Robocop did good deads for the people he met. It could have been a good television show, too.

The Twin-Turbo legacy 2.3 truck edition iron block with four-bolt maincaps purred. The suspension squeaked like a barrel of mice.(I'm about to buy a new mouse. Like a professional wired USB one. made for all-day comfort.)

Driving through New England, he caught up with a 1984 Caprice(LS1 block. You know the deal, pickles. Now we're playing with power.) Inside was Steve Gutenberg and Michael Winslow.

Both cars stopped and the policemen had their lunch right there on the side of the turnpike, with the two men eating ham sandwiches and Robocop eating his babyfood supplemental nutrition.

All things served the Lokken. Just like all paths followed the Beam. The men all knew the score, or the deal, as it were, pickles.

A mighty-Marvel Team-Up was in order. Because you asked for it: Mahoney, Jones, and Murphy, Together For the First Time!

They scoured the coastline and eventually found a marina. There was Crazy Cooter with the Polaris Jet-ski's.

Crazy Cooter kept spitting juice from his chaw all over the place. He kept asking them about news about his sister-the one who had married Roscoe P Coletrain out of pity. There was no news. Hazard County had went off the grid months ago, they said. But despite his eccentricities, he was nice enough to not only loan the jet-ski's to the police, but give them a bag of sandwiches for the trip.

They boarded, throttled-up and pointed their crafts to the eastern horizon, across the implacable grey waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
1/22/2017, 11:16 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


The Kiss of Death.
(brought to you by Peppy-Cola: The Choice of the Lost Generation)


Abaddon1215 sat with both hands around his can of Peppy-Cola.

"There is so much in here" he said, pointing at his temple. "It yearns to get out. But I know you can't handle it."

"We can't handle the truth?" said Agent Oak. "Or we're not ready for your perception of the truth?"

"That's relativistic" said Abaddon1215. "We can circle the shrubbery all day without leaving the side yard. Just like pups at play."

Agent Harold entered the room, regarding his prey with fresh diligence. "Taco day." He said, then smiled. There was a spot of orange grease on the triangular tip of his shirt collar, as if he had dipped it, or maybe even went face-first into his lunch just a few minutes earlier.

"They tell me" said Abaddon1215, taking a sip of Peppy, "that for every unique thought I have, ten thousand other people have the same thought. Like not going in the break room. You get the kiss of death there."

"Have you set up something in our break room?" asked Agent Harold, suddenly alarmed.

Sure enough, in the break room, out of the broom closet, stepped Meala Jobbowitch carrying a double-sided Klingon sword-a crescent of metal that looked evil, as if it had teeth designed for gnawing the flesh of all those that opposed it.

"Kiss of Death" said Abaddon1215. "The moped outraces the interceptor this day."

"Hit him in the back of the head" said Agent Oak, covering his face with his hands. "Hard."

"He's just circling the bull" said Agent Harold.

"If I hit him, I won't know when to stop" said Agent Oak.

Then Abaddon1215 spit Peppy back into the can, on and on, until the can was again full. "You can give this to someone else, now. I've gotten all the electrolytes I can use from it."

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
1/28/2017, 6:58 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


"We're talking about a camera with a hand-crank. Pre-motorized spooling. Mourneau."

"He's trying to control our interrogation" said Agent Harold.

"Its all about the megan-ning of the culture" said Abaddon1215. "Rick James hair."

"I want to hit him as hard as I can muster" said Agent Oak, bearing down his arms into a chair back, making the chair squeak under the immense pressure.

"Megan will rise and become the controller of all the known universe" he/I said, "even beyond the Earth, into the void between the stars."

"Wait a minute" said Agent Harold. "That sounds like that prophecy-thing. Vague so you can read anything into it."

A large paperback book came into view beside Oak. It was the Virginia AT&T listing, and Oak held it high.

"I'm gonna bust open his thinkmeat so I can work my fingers into it and fix it so he makes sense."

Looking away from them, as if he did not see them, Abaddon1215 said "RAGE! RAGE, AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT!"

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
2/9/2017, 1:29 am Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


rrrrrrrrrr....

(ATV sounds, along with the whooshing of the wind, which was quite strong on the hill)

Bloodsteve slows the yellow Boywatch ATV to enjoy some beef jerky. It was quite dry, was the jerky, as it was made and packaged before the North America fell to the living dead, which was happening to become more and more of a distant epoch with each passing day. A steady diet of cured beef and water meant constipation for our Bloodsteve-something he simply came to accept as part of the new paradigm.

Bloodsteve looked down the hill to the remnant of the city on the coast, knowing something was missing: something he longed for.

The Okracabana. He mooned for it. He pined away. He brayed like an ass. He even howled like a lonely old dog, with only the distance Nazis to hear his cry.

He thought of his footage, back in America, of the living dead overtaking everything, and Lokken blasting them to bits. The perfect end for a zombie film was to kill some Nazis, he thought, though he actually found killing the Nazis repugnant in thought and deed.

But it made good happy successful film. And this was his chief concern.

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
2/11/2017, 11:57 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Quantnico Virginia:

Abaddon1215 was bruised and hurting.

A third agent entered the room. "The only file we found on his computer was a Fanal Fantasy save state."

"Oh" said Evermore. "We got him on something, at least."

"The interesting thing" said the third agent, "the four characters are Dewey, Jewel, Darl and Cash."

"Look up the Village People" said Oak. "You sicken me, Abaddon1215!"

"Not the Village People" said the third agent. "Its characters from Faulkner. We had someone downstairs that actually remembers frashman lit. From the book called As I Lay Dying. I guess it was a deathbed confession from Faulkner. Something about taking his daughter's abortion money and buying himself a set of dentures so he could find a new wife."

"A riddle wrapped in an enigma" said Christopher Plummer, "is this one."

"In another reality" said Mark Leonard, "I could have called you friend."

"What is it you say in America?" asked Alan Rickman. "Yippy ky yay, mister cowboy?"

"I love you, Faulkner" whispered Abaddon1215.

"Its pretty clear, Oak" said Evermore. "These aren't the droids we're looking for. Have Martinez and Medavoy cut him loose, after looking at his wounds. The evidence of the tune-up should be gone in a little while. Tell them to be thorough and slow."

"YOU'RE LETTING ME GO?!?" stammered Abaddon1215.

"It's better this way, boy" said Evermore. "You've got to get fit. This is part of the cure. The new way."

"What's this about a new way?" said Brother Dim.

"There are zombies all over the place, out there" said Abaddon1215. "In case you haven't notice. In here in your... your.... cushion of opulence."

---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
3/3/2017, 12:29 am Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
abaddon1215 Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info

Registered user
Global user

Registered: 06-2003
Location: Rural South Carolina
Posts: 1022
Karma: 3 (+5/-2)
Reply | Quote
Re: Mike Daydreams More TIL5 Goodness...


Sam Jackson Six of Fourteen.

To Paul Giamatti:

Sam Six: "Who is number one?"

Paul Giamatti: "You are number six!"

Sam Six: "I am not a number! I am a free man!"

the infamous unusable Sam with the lazy eye. And unspecified learning disability, so he can't memorize dialogue for movie scenes. Before the crap hit the fan, he got a gumment check that he used all on beer and lottery tickets, letting another govt program pay for his housing.

he usedta work at a car dealership, detailing cars. wash, vacuum, so forth. get the straw wrappers and loose change out. he learned the tip of using spray paint to finish off the carpet, when he had a matching color. made the carpet look like new.

he had almost got into film, during one of his namesake's long vacations, it was, with a reboot of Dolemite. He even took a few classes with Charles Norris, developing a little repertoire of moves. But he only took a few classes. His chopsocky lacked the polish of real hands-on experience.

he had a police record due to an incident with Gary Busey, in which Sam Six took a used couch from Gary's bungelow/lair and Gary said Sam Six didn't pay for it. The matter was never settled definitively. No one could prove or disprove that money had changed hands between the two men.

There are two sides in the criminal justice system, seperate yet equally important. On one side is the detectives who apprehend criminals and collect evidence; and on the other side are the prosecutors who work for justice within the legal system.

These are the particulars of that day, in which five young people were brutally murdered. These crimes were especially heinous because the victims were young. The story of those days will be forever remembered in the annals of law enforcement as "the McKinnon Pinestraw Murders."


---
"Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? What the hand, dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?"
3/4/2017, 2:12 am Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 


Add a reply

Page:  1  2  3 ... 12  13  14  15 





You are not logged in (login)