. Kya bataun mom… mom yeh sach hai main apko pasand karta hoon..Ab meri natak oh nooooooo …you dam shit… maa ko tu.. God ! , rohan : i’ m sorr... mom” par yeh sach hai.. Achha kiyu tu mujhe pasand karta hai phir bolo , rohan: mom aap ki badi aur wide mast gand aur huge bbob’s keliye , oh nooo rohan , main aur nahin sun sakti.. You shit. Yaneki you wanna …? Oh dam shit , get lost infront of me , bolke mai mere room pe chaligayi aur phir natak karke dubara urant agayi , tum mere nude picture bhi. She made her way to the door, silently opened it and sidled awkwardly down the hall. She kept one hand against the wall as she sneaked toward the stairs. The wall was cool, old plaster, real plaster, not drywall. She imagined this house was like a mansion when she’d first seen it back at the end of summer. That had been when she’d come as a baby sitter. The place had looked so big, so stately. As she reached the top of the stairs she realized this was more than a mansion, this was a home, a. After breakfast and a few cartoons, the eight year old boy returned to the back yard. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a paper airplane, stuck nose-first in the bushes by the fence. His heart fell when he saw that it was the same one he had thrown an hour before. So, she had rejected his request to talk things over.But wait! Was that purple ink peeking out from under a fold? He had written his note in green. Quickly unfolding the paper, he read his own note:Dear Paula, I hate being broke. The knee drove upward, raising him off the ground a foot as he rode the knee up into the air. The pain hit him, knocking the wind from him. By the time he landed on his side he was nearly comatose with pain. Without turning Darwin swung his left hand in a backhand swing; his fingers outthrust and together in what martial artists called "the knife." He couldn't be careful but hoped he hadn't killed the asshole as he swiped it across the punk's larynx. As the street punk was falling to the ground.