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| Red | Aug 23 2008, 06:57 AM |
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"..." She wore a face that said she wasn't buying it. "You're a dimwit. And don't get my little brothers drunk unless you want a hot iron rod up yer ass. That isn't an empty threat." So that was what their mysterious flues were. Hangovers. Amyra picked up the ingredients for diner and carried them off into the other room. There were no bedrooms. Pallets on the floor suggested they slept right there in the front room. The only other rooms were the bathroom and the 'kitchen' which was really just a tiny place with a very low table and a smaller fernace, as well as a water spout. "I have taught them. They know how to read and write. What they choose to do with their lives is their own business. They know enough to persue whatever they wish. Sweet boys that they are, they want to stay and help their big sister!" She began wearing another huge, silly grin, like a proud parent. She unwrapped a thick slab of meat and inpaled it, in pieces, on the spit over the furnace. Leaning back, with a quick little snap, she sparked the wood beneath it. Soon, Kite's pallet had been finished, but his bathwater was still heating. Ammie began seperating the vegitables. "What about you? What are you up to?" |
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| It Could Be Open? · Working Class Housing | |




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4:43 AM Nov 28