brushes with death are like snowflakes. each one unique and icy cold.

[mijmeraar]

Bob: The Yank won't survive this, son. You might have to, you know. Leave him in the snow.

Fraser: Do you ever listen to yourself, to what you're actually saying?

Bob: I KNOW I CAN'T HELP IT.

Comments

[bigmamag]

Oh, I love it. ♥