Some dirty clothes, a paper bag, a monster, a pizza box, and a toy gun. And don't ask about the toy gun.
I don't follow, where exactly is that picture from and what's the song?Nieroshai said:Hush little baby, don't say a word, and nevermind that noise you heard. It's just the beast under your bed. In your closet. In your head.
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Haha, you and me both then. I'm probably legally obligated to return most of mine. I was a little shit when I was a kid, me and my friend ran around the golf course taking balls from the green or wherever else. Lots of fun stories, but I can't imagine now (looking back) how infuriating it must've been to see some little twat run on the green, take your ball and jet off, whilst you're stood on the top of a hill not being able to do anything. I actually robbed my Dad's golf ball one time, although he didn't know it was me. He came home like "some little shit on the course today.." Ah, fun. I'm never getting rid of mine.DSK- said:Hah I just can' seem to want to part with them. I don't know. It's like losing a precious part of my childhood (because I did it when I was kid - finding them in the fields close to my home).
I am such a strange, strange man :>