Friday, July 25, 2008

What To Title My Birthday Party As

The way the artist Rolo


used Leeng Young Wong smell. From a Chinese boy was filthy, often not sanitized, and this was causing numerous problems every day. He said it was Japanese, said it was samurai. He said he was skilled in the arts of combat, when in fact he had never faced anyone to check. Wong lied a lot, do not quite know why. He worked in a restaurant and killed nasty stray cats to fill empanadas, which were his specialty. And it sold well! People used them, after all, meat is meat vamos! Llegó el día en que el barrio se quedó sin gatos y las ratas se convirtieron en el nuevo relleno del cocinero oriental. Los comensales no parecieron notar la diferencia. Sin embargo, tiempo después hasta las ratas empezaron a escasear. Un nefasto día se le ocurrió una idea fatal: Una mujer obesa vivía en el cuarto contiguo en la pensión y Wong la observaba todos los días, cuando volvía del restaurant. La medía, la estudiaba, la calculaba. Una noche silenciosa, se vistió de ninja y se coló en la pieza de la gorda. Su objetivo estaba claro, pero el plan para lograrlo definitivamente no. La gorda se despertó de repente y vio al chino desquiciado con su katana a punto de trozarla. Bastó un manotazo hesitant to bring down the ninja. The big woman sat with unusual fury and gave him a beating like no other. She was fat, yes, but not boluda. Chinese knew that the strange looking with their eyes torn. When finished grinding with sticks, threw him out of the room. The next day, when Wong returned to the board with his body full of bruises and his face covered in bandages, the obese women, as usual was sitting in the hall, as if nothing had happened. Wong walked into his room, watching furtively and with great pain, but no injuries. The unfortunate missed his katana, the woman had decided to keep as a trophy. He could not even get the harakiri to save her honor.

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