She is green, mean and spits fire. She chews gum a pack at a time and she wears combat boots with zippers. Always dresses in black and drives a Black Porsch. She would just as soon run you down than to look at you! She is one of them persons that race their engine at a stop light and takes up two lanes of traffic.
She is always in the fast lane, but that doesn’t mean you are safe in the slow lane. She is full of dirty tricks and tells lies faster than a speeding bullet. She has no need for anything that you may have, but she will take them just to be mean and so you don’t have them. If you look closely, you will see that she has sharp pointed ears and her hair is different colors.
Now I am not perfect, but compare me to her, I am an Angel of Angels. I have no powers, but I am full of love, kind and considerate. Mother was a hostess in a place on the other side of town. My father was a runner. I have never known or seen him.
My mother said he was handsome man, big, bad, and he cheated at everything, including himself. She told me that he would take candy away from small children and he would throw rocks at dogs and cats, pulled the wings off of butterflies and that he was a firebug, of the worst kind. He was a Devil of his own making. I heard that as a young person, he held the record for breaking windows. Some say he was working for the glass company and received a percentage of all money they made from broken windows.
He also went around slashing car and pickup tires when he wasn’t too busy. People that sold tires refused to do business with him. When ever he entered a store, an armed guard would follow him around. He was first arrested for running a racket of protection for people that owned small businesses. He was the number one suspect for any crime comminuted in the county. His picture is on the Post Office walls so many times, you would think it was wall paper. But he goes to see his Mother every Sunday morning.
As an infant, I was given up for adoption, and raised by a God fearing family that lived in the country. I worked hard on the farm, when I was young. My sister was born of this family and she ran away when she was sixteen. She moved around so fast and free’ it was impossible to catch up with her. After a couple of years, the family gave up all hope of finding her. Then one day she showed up in our town and hell was reborn.
A fire alarm sounded at the fire station and a truck was dispatched. The fire burned high and hot, as she stood there, dressed in Red, holding a large fork and laughing. Could she have been my father’s daughter?
By; Ben R.
She is always in the fast lane, but that doesn’t mean you are safe in the slow lane. She is full of dirty tricks and tells lies faster than a speeding bullet. She has no need for anything that you may have, but she will take them just to be mean and so you don’t have them. If you look closely, you will see that she has sharp pointed ears and her hair is different colors.
Now I am not perfect, but compare me to her, I am an Angel of Angels. I have no powers, but I am full of love, kind and considerate. Mother was a hostess in a place on the other side of town. My father was a runner. I have never known or seen him.
My mother said he was handsome man, big, bad, and he cheated at everything, including himself. She told me that he would take candy away from small children and he would throw rocks at dogs and cats, pulled the wings off of butterflies and that he was a firebug, of the worst kind. He was a Devil of his own making. I heard that as a young person, he held the record for breaking windows. Some say he was working for the glass company and received a percentage of all money they made from broken windows.
He also went around slashing car and pickup tires when he wasn’t too busy. People that sold tires refused to do business with him. When ever he entered a store, an armed guard would follow him around. He was first arrested for running a racket of protection for people that owned small businesses. He was the number one suspect for any crime comminuted in the county. His picture is on the Post Office walls so many times, you would think it was wall paper. But he goes to see his Mother every Sunday morning.
As an infant, I was given up for adoption, and raised by a God fearing family that lived in the country. I worked hard on the farm, when I was young. My sister was born of this family and she ran away when she was sixteen. She moved around so fast and free’ it was impossible to catch up with her. After a couple of years, the family gave up all hope of finding her. Then one day she showed up in our town and hell was reborn.
A fire alarm sounded at the fire station and a truck was dispatched. The fire burned high and hot, as she stood there, dressed in Red, holding a large fork and laughing. Could she have been my father’s daughter?
By; Ben R.
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