darkSpyro

A user

who is

very strange

and fabulous.

He likes

to eat piss

Ewww.

And loves

Quote: Kariana

Ewww.

you ruined it

Fat pigs

that,

Owns a

slave

Named

Joey Graceffa

******

CCCCCCOMBO BREAKER

and then

He jumped

in the pool

and got in a swim suit

and did fish tails around the pool.

and then got out and played ..........

Spyro

and then spyro losed all of his lives and died in the game

Then .

he played Pokemon

and lost

his soul like Squidward.

And become

a giant

PENGAS

Which was...

MY MILLSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD *shot*

Quote: DragonCamo

MY MILLSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD *shot*

MY MILKSHAKE Is tasty.

A big

Moby Dick: Chapter 1

Call 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 to 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, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs--commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?--Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster--tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?

IRateGamer

moby duck

Duck Song

Quote: sniper52

Quote: DragonCamo

MY MILLSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD *shot*

MY MILKSHAKE Is tasty.

I know a cow named milkshake.

I like...

I've-cream

with


____

mon dieu what happened here....

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.
I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.
Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugli- est cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insist- ing that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. He hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay.