apology for poor english. when were you when john lenin dies? i was sat at home eating smegma butter when pjotr ring. ‘john is kill’ ‘no’
This folder is empty
twitchquotes:📂 My PC------------------------------------------------------------ └📁 Forsen Sub-------------------------------------------------------└⚠️ this folder is empty
📂 My PC------------------------------------------------------------ └📁 Forsen Sub-------------------------------------------------------└⚠️ this folder is empty PepeHands
Someone just posted that same paragraph...
twitchquotes:This is going to sound crazy, but someone posted that same paragraph just a minute ago. Here in this chat even. The odds of two people having the same paragraph-long thought is astronomical, especially in the same small website. Wow.
This is going to sound crazy, but someone posted that same paragraph just a minute ago. Here in this chat even. The odds of two people having the same paragraph-long thought is astronomical, especially in the same small website. Wow.
Why is six afraid of seven? Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.