Freedom in the cafeIt was Sunday. August 10th 2008. 12:48 am.
That day I met a man. He was about 1.86 tall I think. He looked somewhat taken. Perhaps he had taken too much alcohol. In spite of ignorance, my friends made fun of him. I also could not suppress a laugh. After he sat far back in the café, my friends started to ask
"This one is full. Do we want to annoy him? "
"He knows probably not tomorrow that he was here, right?"
"I think he is crazy, do not you think?"
I did not know what I should reply. Somehow, an inner voice told me that he was not drunken. His eyes revealed it. Small eyes, but large pupils. Do not ask me whether something is normal or rather abnormal. I do not know.
After a short time, I could not hear the insults of my friends anymore. I got up and went to the man. My friends looked confused and perplexed. Near the man was a chair. I took it, positioned it right for me, and sat on it.
The man did not look at me. He looked at his cup of coffee, which he had ordered a
The fate of warGrowl and the hammering of the pistons could be heard. The noise of the engine of the trucks drowned out the conversation of the soldiers.
"So boys and girls. Simple operation. We go in, clean up, and go out!" said Corporal Smith, shaking in the seat and trying to drown the noise of the engine with his language.
"Keep your weapons calmly and Jorge, do not aim friends." warned the corporal a rather small soldiers.
"Standard procedure, sir?" asked Rooney.
Private Rooney was one of the best on the team, a thoughtful young man, perhaps a bit too thoughtful. It could well happen that he forget important safety precautions. Nonetheless, Corporal Smith estimated him much, as he has good ideas in risky situations. Ideas that sometimes decide about life and death.
"Yeah, we pull it through and then it goes for me back home, boys and girls." said Corporal Smith with a smile, "You were really a great team, but now I have to dedicate more time to my family."
"Yeah, we will miss you, sir." said Roo
The best, the last, the mercenaryOnce upon a time, there was a young boy named Delf who always dreamed of becoming the world's best mercenary. He trained every day for 12 hours in order to beat his rival, The Quizzical Menace. The day of the big competition arrived, and Delf came armed with a advertising column and his unstoppable determination. They were pitted against each other in a battle of wits, and Delf emerged as the shifty victor! His achievement is celebrated every St. Martin's Day.
The Sack, the Obama and the Bloomfield HillsA young woman named Lora loved making art, and practiced fading all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical lolipops, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic Bloomfield Hills, and a portrait of Barak Obama that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby sack for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in fading to create the most beautiful deviation depicting glasses entertaining anyone had ever seen. That night, she shouted out the window, "Thanks, sack!"
Cakes and FlowersMy great-grandfather used to tell me, "Don't chase after cakes because you'll only end up with a flower in your neck." I never quite understood his advice until one thanksgiving, I was gardening with my best friend Lora. All of a sudden, we found an underground tunnel! It was blue and spooky sounds came from deep within. Lora saw something interesting inside, jumped in, and I never saw her again. Great-granddaddy was right!