Why Did I Ever Let Her Go?
Change the world, change the world, change the word, change the earth. Death and taxes are the only things I enjoy.
In Tokyo there is a small population of wild owls living on the outskirts, terrorizing young children and old children. These owls must be stopped, and I just bit my tongue. Why do we the people of Tokyo live in fear of the flying beasts? Because the flying beasts symbolize what we fear most: flying owls. I remember it like it happened to me just last century: I was strolling along at a brisk but upbeat pace, waving to my neighbours and nodding at the homeless people with a suspicious grin. And then, for a moment, the light of the sun is decimated by the passing shadow of a creature so terrifying and un-relenting that I can do nothing but cower and hide behind the nearest old lady I can find. That lady happened to be a man named Archibald, but that is another story for another time. The owl is stoic, he knows at any moment he can unleash hell upon us, but he chooses to stare upon us with pity, laughing his little owl laugh. I curse under my breath and swear revenge, but my feet will not move and my throat will not loosen. From the alley a surprise; a young man with a whistle and two orange gloves. He yells at us, "Oi! Anata no asoko! koko de kaeriro!!" It's a shame I cannot understand Japanese, I stare back at him and begin to cry.
Twenty minutes later, the devastation is complete. Fourteen dead, seven-hundred and forty-eight injured. The owl had done its worst, and the bodies lay strewn across the streets and the sidewalks. And for those of you who do not believe, and have but one word to say to you: buns.
Owl Death
As the metallic foot slowly lowered upon him, Bagby the gerbil winked at me.
There is a time and a place for everything, but for nothing there is a specific date and location that must be considered.
The magical mystery tour is dying to take you away, dying to take you away, take you to-day.
In Tokyo there is a small population of wild owls living on the outskirts, terrorizing young children and old children. These owls must be stopped, and I just bit my tongue. Why do we the people of Tokyo live in fear of the flying beasts? Because the flying beasts symbolize what we fear most: flying owls. I remember it like it happened to me just last century: I was strolling along at a brisk but upbeat pace, waving to my neighbours and nodding at the homeless people with a suspicious grin. And then, for a moment, the light of the sun is decimated by the passing shadow of a creature so terrifying and un-relenting that I can do nothing but cower and hide behind the nearest old lady I can find. That lady happened to be a man named Archibald, but that is another story for another time. The owl is stoic, he knows at any moment he can unleash hell upon us, but he chooses to stare upon us with pity, laughing his little owl laugh. I curse under my breath and swear revenge, but my feet will not move and my throat will not loosen. From the alley a surprise; a young man with a whistle and two orange gloves. He yells at us, "Oi! Anata no asoko! koko de kaeriro!!" It's a shame I cannot understand Japanese, I stare back at him and begin to cry.
Twenty minutes later, the devastation is complete. Fourteen dead, seven-hundred and forty-eight injured. The owl had done its worst, and the bodies lay strewn across the streets and the sidewalks. And for those of you who do not believe, and have but one word to say to you: buns.
Owl Death
As the metallic foot slowly lowered upon him, Bagby the gerbil winked at me.
There is a time and a place for everything, but for nothing there is a specific date and location that must be considered.
The magical mystery tour is dying to take you away, dying to take you away, take you to-day.