Boom! The gun went off like thunder in the night sky: I left the scene.
Two days later I passed by the murder scene, piss struggling to squeeze through my penis; in tension. I played anonymous, police still analyzing on-the-scene evidence.
I don’t regret killing Milicent Batcher; pretty man, but he fucked up. I’m a gay black man, if I woinna fuck you, I fuck you; nobody’s goinna tell me shit! Bet he’s in the nether realms of hell now; pleading his case!
Brandy on the rocks and a cuban, I get: life feels good when you take it by its ugly horns and ride on the side with evil intent. I was in no mood for games; wooing a pretty white girl at the Worcester campus of the University of South London, my eyes were dang set on the prize: pussy. She’s thick on the waist and speaks fine spanish; a damn pleasure to my eyes. Jesus wept; she knows I woinna get her to bed! I’m sitting calm and collected, twirling my glass of brandy, as I puff smoke into her eyes. I cherish my black Ferrari like the water you drink; I eye her: the signs of magic on her trunk; like Sandy, the babe. The night was rough.
Saturday ran by fast today; tommorrow’s church: another day to seduce unsuspecting young beauties, the smooth operator I am. I’m ironing my clothes when a man knocks on my door. I move, singlet and jeans clad, towards the door: he’s the delivery boy I ordered fast food from. I settle and discharge him quickly. I eat up and go to sleep after pressing my clothes for church; another hard and beautiful day gone by.
2xdx – 5 = FG.E16
FG – 6dz –> 0
2e5 – 9dy = 96
1xd5xe, 23xd ! 5x63e2
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