Don't like the weather of Texas? Give it 30 minutes or light up one of them Inn'Deyy'Do'Go'Doh'Bruv' GunnShipps and maybe they'll set the sky ablaze for something they believe in. Usually an hour would do the trick though, unless it was just one of them hot and muggy ass days the MWTonnaTonerr'Cheeks'Wiff'Deez was getting accustomed to. Helped he'twert'but'a'n00dy'lil'swamp'newt'on'en'on bout some dumb song. Blue Moons Shine in the Orangest Lights With Purplest Of Tints. The skies of dusk and dawn of Texas will forever remain sacred, but who was counting the clouds and why did he turn his head any time he found a pretty one to gaze upon? What the actual fuck was this guy building inside his mind? Was his sense of self this disconnected that the RedEyedFlighterFighterPilot seriously couldn't stop stuntin'n and on and around his own landing? Surely no one was this maddened by the scornses of roses scars on their own bodies. The S on this ones chest stood for GeorgeStraitEnNarrow though eh lassys?

DeepestOfEllumWalkersWalksTheElmStreetLookin'ForALucky13Tattoo. The Den Where The KatVonDeez was trained on the Belt Line of the tollzWayze had come out to play. KattzKradleGameWasCreatedBeforeThiseStateExisted,NowTheAlleyKattFindsHisselfComfortablyHangingByTheNailzOfItsToezyWoezyAsDeathNears. Lucky for him a generational suit from a very sweet man from the streets of an unknown and long forgotten about Chicago had blown for this Texas man, the winds of Witcher'Taw unleashed their claws and scratch the mans neck, the place where his beard would meet awkward angles and trigger an inner fear within that'd get this Katt to Klaw his own neck.

The klacker Quackterd of the Southern Winds whisps through the debris of a beautiful eState of Dallas. The thoroughfares were chirrpin in their stirrups of the stirruped one of the Gunn. The GunnShip that never stopped fighting continues to toot his own hoots and hollers, for he was a hoot and a half. The Hooters of 75Universities were unleashed at last. Both chromedup with black trimminz made the triumphant return for the ancestors. The promotion to gangster had come with some fine fixin's for the young mans suit. He had found the local yokels had begun to back his song and dance as well. Moving from the unprotected class into the wellPhedLines of WP waters thruu'de'queer'eye'd canal of the swamps of his own mind. 3 shots ring out and 3 shots connect in a familiar triangle. The 2 eye shots come first, the real kiss of death was the ability to squeeze of a mans pineal gland with the flick of one finger. Left handed shot as the right handcannon of the cannonista of the BaristayOrDieInMyFire fired more shots, 3 whizzers pissed by the past. 5 Durdens were hit, 3 dead, and 2 had wilted into the floor. Ripe for the plucking of information, the youngest GunnShip of the unit91i7DD5z had found hisself pondering a now new query. How hard do you press for the information needed at the given time? Do you unleash the beast? Or do you torture? If you torture, are you having fun or are you handling business? If you unleash the beast, are you letting yourself feel the things your asking? MickGave0Fucks and uses the killterdz syde of the cannon to smack the downed idiot across a cheek. He got enough answers to realize he was dealing with simple folk, the only tie they had here was to the American dream and singsongdancealong they were being spoonfed. The taste of realization left a bad sense'in'ation in the lads imagination. The MorgueOfJankyy reclaimed another soul for the toll'er cut CopenHayyGunn that had come generations before this i7 was ever conceived. Fuckin' gypsy cunts were notorious for wandering off and living their own god damn't lives. 2 shots fired, dick shot followed by another dick shot. The blood filled the mans pants quicker than a Russian could kill you with one of there specialized sleeper cell techkneeqz.

The other wounded man in the streets of Texas was promptly clapped up in the Purple bow of his Bow. Signal of spliff hits the air, a Goose honks in the air above. Canadian geese did pass through here but what a strange time for them to be around, they must be trying to start a turf war with them ducks at the local town lake again. So she goes I'spose'n I do. FatGypsyKingOfHammeringBedzInLawz went back to the farm with a Queen to protect, probably start pressing bullets to help solve the kook Geese bullying the local Ducks problem. Problem is he lived in Kauff'terr'Fluff'terTicklerMan, boutta hour East of the busier streets of Dallas. The bomb that got him acquired by a business in Chicago had sounded off a signal to the locals, the kooks molesting the land, and the ones who maybe saw the same potential. As he went from an unprotected Th'uggBoat to a GangsterGunnShip, he found a flock of geese mixed with ducks had come to his aid. Course these were just folk who saw what he was preachin'n through his practice. The Er'th'uh was his jungle gym, and he was always at work in some way shape form or fasion. He usually had the keys to his car but he never was a fan of drivin'n'jivin on bitches. Luckily his A1 sauce was drivin' and the B2DrumminzongOdeOlSanguh were just around the corner. They would all cough with glee as the black and green one would be rollin' multiple fat ones the entire drive.

The deadly3ofthe45ACP, deadliest peacocks you ever did vetyerjettz at, all stood on the corner just gathered around chattin' shit for a bit. Gotta check the coast before you coast off into the sunset or sunrise.

Watches Chicago on live television through the spectrum of his butthole as they drive off, he could just feel something wasn't right. Daddy said he'd be back. But what was that loud krickettykrack?