Knife?
by:
Rattitoupt 
408
408
30.11.2021
10 comments
Banananut2
30.11.2021 01:44
Linkthe taste of metal, rusted metal, from the blood of my tounge
Rattitoupt[OP]
30.11.2021 01:46
LinkYes the splendid after taste of such metal getting caressed by your fleshy tongue as you savor the lasting taste of rust
Banananut2
30.11.2021 01:50
Linkvery descriptive
Rattitoupt[OP]
30.11.2021 01:51
Link🗡🌝 want a taste?
Banananut2
30.11.2021 01:54
LinkAbsolutely, the outstandingly remarkable flavoring of the platinum plated, rigid sharp pointy knife, getting maneuvering along the lingua glossa, also known as the tongue muscle, as your taste bud scream in deliciousness, all because of the astonishing flavor of rust
Rattitoupt[OP]
30.11.2021 01:58
LinkQuiet certainly the scent of such thing would get there first. It’s salty and sour smell would be sliding it’s way into your nose and opening new doors to such smell. That is what will tempt you to delight yourself in retreating such snack
Banananut2
30.11.2021 02:00
LinkThe FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start.
Rattitoupt[OP]
30.11.2021 02:04
LinkCall me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time tozz get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree,
Banananut2
30.11.2021 02:20
LinkCall me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time tozz get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree
Rattitoupt[OP]
30.11.2021 02:21
LinkCall me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time tozz get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree,