Out of a heavy sky, swollen with unspent rain that sagged toward the earth on a windy November morning, came a lean, sinewy man with deep-set eyes, the same dark brown as his hair. 772 more words
…because “Shopkins” is copyrighted.
So here I am, over a month, drunk off my stupid ass, and absolutely nothing to show until now. I’m sure my drunk mind has some sort of totally rad social commentary to preach with this one, but hell if I feel like trying to decipher exactly what that might be right now. 79 more words