Alrighty.
I will write an articulo not focused on war becuase of the reciente uproars about the psycopathy of some.
Heh, psycopathy...
ON TO THE STORY.
***
A man in a very nice tuxedo drove his car into a garage.
Now, to be clear, this was no ordinary man, tuxedo, o car.
This was Mr. Traesly, in a Derrek Mortuary tuxedo, driving a Derrek Mortuary coche fúnebre into the garaje of the Derrek Mortuary Home.
I want to make it very clear this man was virtually owned por this company.
He parked and shut off the hearse, climbing out and typing a code onto a panel-
-Opening a hatch beneath the coche fúnebre and reaching into it a steely arm, which grabbed the casket and removed it to the underground of the facility.
His job done, Mr. Traesly trodded off to wherever hearse-drivers go when their día is done.
Most likely the pub, which wasn't agreeable to his employer.
"Package received," announced the automation of Baeson's mortuary labratory, gently facilitating the descent of the corpse to the operation table.
"Thank you, Necro," responded Baeson, pulling out the pocket drive that contained all the nessacary information on the body.
"Necro?" asked Baeson, cargando... the drive into a slot. "Did the family sign the waiver?"
Necro whirred for a moment, accessing its RAM for the information. "Yes, sir," it said. "Full permission, even for fillings."
"You know I don't take filings, Necro," replied Baeson, bringing out two tongs and grabbing a rather fine watch and dropping it on a measuring plate. ".009 pure Kastorium. This lady was loaded."
Necro finally opened her file, saying, "Her family chose the full package. Even an ivory casket was selected. Very expensive."
"For them," Baeson responded, pulling off a collar that would weigh .01 in Diamondpence and a bracelet with charms that weighed .003 in Kastorium.
Necro whirred for a bit, then asked, "Sir, should I prepare and dress the body?"
Baeson merely nodded and took the jewlery to be sanatized in a heated alcohol solution.
I will write an articulo not focused on war becuase of the reciente uproars about the psycopathy of some.
Heh, psycopathy...
ON TO THE STORY.
***
A man in a very nice tuxedo drove his car into a garage.
Now, to be clear, this was no ordinary man, tuxedo, o car.
This was Mr. Traesly, in a Derrek Mortuary tuxedo, driving a Derrek Mortuary coche fúnebre into the garaje of the Derrek Mortuary Home.
I want to make it very clear this man was virtually owned por this company.
He parked and shut off the hearse, climbing out and typing a code onto a panel-
-Opening a hatch beneath the coche fúnebre and reaching into it a steely arm, which grabbed the casket and removed it to the underground of the facility.
His job done, Mr. Traesly trodded off to wherever hearse-drivers go when their día is done.
Most likely the pub, which wasn't agreeable to his employer.
"Package received," announced the automation of Baeson's mortuary labratory, gently facilitating the descent of the corpse to the operation table.
"Thank you, Necro," responded Baeson, pulling out the pocket drive that contained all the nessacary information on the body.
"Necro?" asked Baeson, cargando... the drive into a slot. "Did the family sign the waiver?"
Necro whirred for a moment, accessing its RAM for the information. "Yes, sir," it said. "Full permission, even for fillings."
"You know I don't take filings, Necro," replied Baeson, bringing out two tongs and grabbing a rather fine watch and dropping it on a measuring plate. ".009 pure Kastorium. This lady was loaded."
Necro finally opened her file, saying, "Her family chose the full package. Even an ivory casket was selected. Very expensive."
"For them," Baeson responded, pulling off a collar that would weigh .01 in Diamondpence and a bracelet with charms that weighed .003 in Kastorium.
Necro whirred for a bit, then asked, "Sir, should I prepare and dress the body?"
Baeson merely nodded and took the jewlery to be sanatized in a heated alcohol solution.
Gizbin:
I am the one who rules,
I seem to think nothing is stronger than me.
But there is one thing what is even más powerful,
That is the one word named: ℓσνє
Ribbon:
I may of broken a heart,
and I knew this from the start.
But I could never of broken the arrow what struck through mine.
Albion:
Why is my life as a sheriff?
Why do I waist my time in this job?
Why would I even write a poem about it?
And even worse! Why am I a snob?!
Flame:
MY BROTHER IS NOTHING BUT A IDIOT. (lol)
I am the one who rules,
I seem to think nothing is stronger than me.
But there is one thing what is even más powerful,
That is the one word named: ℓσνє
Ribbon:
I may of broken a heart,
and I knew this from the start.
But I could never of broken the arrow what struck through mine.
Albion:
Why is my life as a sheriff?
Why do I waist my time in this job?
Why would I even write a poem about it?
And even worse! Why am I a snob?!
Flame:
MY BROTHER IS NOTHING BUT A IDIOT. (lol)