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Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Prisoners of War - Chapter 8

I sighed, fumbling with the tie and moved over to my reflect admiring the font I wore. I hadnt worn it since my dads funeral, and had hoped that I would never bugger off to again, but I did. I check out my watch wonder where Mike was and sluggishly made my manner downstairs and plopped on the couch. I didnt want to go to this trial... I sighed looking at the tube-shaped structure and bad of weed. I wanted to smoke it but knew I shouldnt. I mediocre felt like ****. My leg began to nervously tap as I stared between the clock and door, and thus gave in and snatched up the bag and pipe and loading a bowl. Over the retiring(a) four days Ive made the change from whole no idea what I was doing, to being quick and economic at getting what needed to be done, done...that being say in spite of appearance a few minutes, I was nicely ripped, and deposit plump out for in my chair with a big smiling on my face. The high that I loved was back, which was surprising considering the circumstances. so farthermost I didnt look at my watch again, until I take misfortunes come from the door. Hey man... Mike said softly fiddling with his tie. Do you know how to tie one of these things? I shook my ill wobbling and he looked at me and cursed.
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Jesus your high arent you? I left that **** incase you wanted to smoke last night, non this morning. I chuckled. Sorry man, I couldnt hold back... I staggered and nearly knock down but he grabbed hold of me and gently direct me back to my chair sitting me down. Shaking his head he grabbed the take a breather of the weed and pipe and went into the kitchen. He ca me back... ! If you want to get a all-inclusive essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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