This happened some time ago, when we tried to convince that there was a demon in human guise named Saddam Hussein , and therefore required a holy war which for reasons of marketing called Gulf War. The first.
I, like you do not just believe me, I decided to express my disagreement with a white sheet hanging on the balcony. Before going further I should mention two things: first lived in the Eixample in an old building with a neighbor whose grandchildren were more gray than Snowflake Snowman (RIP). Furthermore, what of putting up posters, sheets or banners, but it was done and looked at other streets, the mine was deserted cars catching dust and stains from pigeons Barcelona mutants. One day, when I came home from work, I met a neighbor downstairs and she greeted me: - Hello. How are you doing? - Well, surviving as usual. - I've seen you put the washing on the balcony. - No. "I replied, trying find the words clearer and simpler to not have to explain in detail the relationship policy between foreign and part of the dowry of my house. - I have not put out to dry, if not to protest by war. - Ya, if it seems to me, what happens is that the guard came and said he was forbidden to hang clothes on the street. This got me out of my boxes. How was it possible to come the police to touch noses with a silly excuse and they can even be able to tell me directly, but it will serve as the old woman to try to pressure me?
I left her and walked up the stairs outraged. Were to find out with whom he played rooms. Do not leave them alone and started thinking to imagine possibilities : - Find a sawed-off shotgun, go to the full City Council and justice.
- bonzo to burn, naked and wrapped in bloody sheets in Plaza Sant Jaume .
- Becoming a Rambo and throw me to the mountain, that is, the mountains of Collserola and make guerrilla warfare and revolutionary to charge a toll on the C-58.
may not spent less than ten minutes when I started playing feet on the ground and rethink everything. Had not he said he had been a guard? Perhaps to get back the ticket and now I would be present. I went downstairs and knocked on the door: - Hello, I become myself. One question, Ms . Anna, "said the guard if he would come? - do not know, long ago. - But when the call came? - during the war. - But what war I speak? "He asked , sensing and fearing the answer. - do what you want it? Ours, son of ours.
This happened some time ago, when we tried to convince that there was a demon in human guise named Saddam Hussein , and therefore required a holy war which for reasons of marketing called Gulf War. The first.
I, like you do not just believe me, I decided to express my disagreement with a white sheet hanging on the balcony. Before going further I should mention two things: first lived in the Eixample in an old building with a neighbor whose grandchildren were more gray than Snowflake Snowman (RIP). Furthermore, what of putting up posters, sheets or banners, but it was done and looked at other streets, the mine was deserted cars catching dust and stains from pigeons Barcelona mutants.
One day, when I came home from work, I met a neighbor downstairs and she greeted me:
- Hello. How are you doing?
- Well, surviving as usual.
- I've seen you put the washing on the balcony.
- No. "I replied, trying find the words clearer and simpler to not have to explain in detail the relationship policy between foreign and part of the dowry of my house. - I have not put out to dry, if not to protest by war.
- Ya, if it seems to me, what happens is that the guard came and said he was forbidden to hang clothes on the street.
This got me out of my boxes. How was it possible to come the police to touch noses with a silly excuse and they can even be able to tell me directly, but it will serve as the old woman to try to pressure me?
I left her and walked up the stairs outraged. Were to find out with whom he played rooms. Do not leave them alone and started thinking to imagine possibilities :
- Find a sawed-off shotgun, go to the full City Council and justice.
- bonzo to burn, naked and wrapped in bloody sheets in Plaza Sant Jaume .
- Becoming a Rambo and throw me to the mountain, that is, the mountains of Collserola and make guerrilla warfare and revolutionary to charge a toll on the C-58.
may not spent less than ten minutes when I started playing feet on the ground and rethink everything. Had not he said he had been a guard? Perhaps to get back the ticket and now I would be present.
I went downstairs and knocked on the door:
- Hello, I become myself. One question, Ms . Anna, "said the guard if he would come?
- do not know, long ago.
- But when the call came?
- during the war.
- But what war I speak? "He asked , sensing and fearing the answer.
- do what you want it? Ours, son of ours.
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