i put fen in a planter to wait for sam to vacuum. the vacuum sucks at his very marrow and makes him a shy killer.

what it all comes down to when it all comes down is a ho-down, aroo! rark!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i don't need your spirit vacuum, i don't need your goods and services, thank-you, i don't need your fucking war machine.

i worry needlessly i suppose but it's not a reasonable thing, like shyness it's not something needs curing but living out, it's just the fear and damage of living in global america.

so how do you feel now. i will help you to be shy in this brute world, you will help me too. shall we go back now?