#419 - RAIN


1) At the wet grass lands of north Northumberland, Sir Zoltan Hothorn,
    was finishing his last preparations...

2) He was dreaming years of this day, his flying cherry pitter will leave the english land 
    for the blue sky.
    - Now Now Now!

3) - I don't believe he's ever gonna make it...

4) Against all bad precognitions of his partner, Hothorn finally made it and after 
    a few moments was hurling millions of cherry pits on Newcastle's citizens heads!
    - Holly shit! Bloody London!

No comments:

Post a Comment