@HEAVY METALThat kid has his future path all lined out in front of him. :(
- Last Seen: 23 hrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 5634 (1.24 / day)
- VMs: 9
-
Username history
- Gunther 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Krasnaya,
Alisdragon911,
Hope Lover,
D3AD ST4R,
SouffleGirl123,
Antlers,
NovellaAddict,
Birdboy,
FourtyTwo,
DELETED9742
Status
Recent Statuses
16 days ago
Current
Summer break begins today!
1
like
3 mos ago
I will continue to be one of the oldest members of this community in August.
12
likes
5 mos ago
If you are a fan of Warhammer 40,000 or Age of Sigmar, let me know. Maybe we can put together an RP. I play Ironjawz & Kruleboyz in AOS and Salamanders & Drukhari in 40K.
1
like
2 yrs ago
Happy holidays, everyone!
6
likes
2 yrs ago
Summer break is almost over. Back to work/school and all that non-fun stuff.
5
likes
Bio
I am a veteran of the United States Army and the US Army National Guard. I spent three years on Active Duty serving in the 4th Infantry Division (Mechanized) at Ft. Carson, CO, and the 3rd Armor Division at Kirch Göns, West Germany. I spent 18 years in the Army National Guard with the 26th Infantry Division "Yankee" and 29th Infantry Division (Light), "The Blue and the Gray". I was deployed to Bosnia-Herzegovina with the 29th ID (L) in 2001 - 2002. I have also been reading military history articles and books since I was 10 years old. I do prefer Military Role Plays over all other genres, primarily because I have a vast knowledge of the subject including personal experiences. At the very least, my characters are always veterans.
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 35+ years but only got into forum-based Role Playing about eighteen years ago. I do enjoy Nation Role Plays and get into minute detail when designing my military. The only reason I enjoy excruciating detail in my militaries is because for me, it is fun. My education and experience on this subject afford me the insight to see the depth of the structure. It is not just a General and a large pile of soldiers. If someone wants assistance in designing an army, navy, or air force, please send me a PM. I will help. Please specify what level (echelon) or depth you would like me to go. When I say echelon, I mean Army, Corps, Division, Brigade/Regiment, Battalion/Squadron, Company/Troop/Battery, Platoon, and Squad/Section.
When I was a student in High School, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons. Recently, I have been DMing a 5e campaign of my creation for my son and his friends. 5e is so much less cumbersome than earlier editions of D&D. I do have an interest in Tolkien-esque fantasy-styled Role Plays as well. Time travel has always been a fun genre for me, but to do it well, one must have a firm grasp of historical facts.
There are only a few fanfictions I will participate in; Star Wars and Star Trek are two of them. I want to do an exclusively Klingon RP one of these days. I also avoid Canon characters.
I have real-world martial arts experience. I would love to write an RP about hand-to-hand combat, no fantasy magic chit, just hands elbows, knees, and feet. Maybe the occasional head butt thrown in to mix things up. I trained in Krav Maga for six and a half years. I earned a first-degree black belt in Krav Maga on 3 June 2017.
Krav Maga is an Israeli martial art form that employs practical self-defense techniques drawing forms & techniques from Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding, and aggressive. During the seven years I trained, I have bruised two ribs, sustained several muscle pulls, and various lacerations and bruises over my body. I have received a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist. Before the first black belt test, I received a bone bruise to my right shin; where my roundhouse kicks impact. Yet, I am stupid enough to continue training. [Regardless of the physical pain, it is more fun than any other physical activity I have engaged in. Fortunately, the bone bruise healed up prior to the third and final test. EDIT: I did leave the sport over five years ago. :(]
Over two years ago I completed my first novel, a science fiction set in the 24th century. It focuses on a Private Military Corporation solely employed by the earth government. I started a second book in November 2022 and hope to work on that this summer when I have more time.
Send me a PM for a Role Play or if you would like to see what sort of an army I could build for you.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
I have been writing for pleasure for at least 35+ years but only got into forum-based Role Playing about eighteen years ago. I do enjoy Nation Role Plays and get into minute detail when designing my military. The only reason I enjoy excruciating detail in my militaries is because for me, it is fun. My education and experience on this subject afford me the insight to see the depth of the structure. It is not just a General and a large pile of soldiers. If someone wants assistance in designing an army, navy, or air force, please send me a PM. I will help. Please specify what level (echelon) or depth you would like me to go. When I say echelon, I mean Army, Corps, Division, Brigade/Regiment, Battalion/Squadron, Company/Troop/Battery, Platoon, and Squad/Section.
When I was a student in High School, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons. Recently, I have been DMing a 5e campaign of my creation for my son and his friends. 5e is so much less cumbersome than earlier editions of D&D. I do have an interest in Tolkien-esque fantasy-styled Role Plays as well. Time travel has always been a fun genre for me, but to do it well, one must have a firm grasp of historical facts.
There are only a few fanfictions I will participate in; Star Wars and Star Trek are two of them. I want to do an exclusively Klingon RP one of these days. I also avoid Canon characters.
I have real-world martial arts experience. I would love to write an RP about hand-to-hand combat, no fantasy magic chit, just hands elbows, knees, and feet. Maybe the occasional head butt thrown in to mix things up. I trained in Krav Maga for six and a half years. I earned a first-degree black belt in Krav Maga on 3 June 2017.
Krav Maga is an Israeli martial art form that employs practical self-defense techniques drawing forms & techniques from Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Taekwando. It is very brutal, demanding, and aggressive. During the seven years I trained, I have bruised two ribs, sustained several muscle pulls, and various lacerations and bruises over my body. I have received a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist. Before the first black belt test, I received a bone bruise to my right shin; where my roundhouse kicks impact. Yet, I am stupid enough to continue training. [Regardless of the physical pain, it is more fun than any other physical activity I have engaged in. Fortunately, the bone bruise healed up prior to the third and final test. EDIT: I did leave the sport over five years ago. :(]
Over two years ago I completed my first novel, a science fiction set in the 24th century. It focuses on a Private Military Corporation solely employed by the earth government. I started a second book in November 2022 and hope to work on that this summer when I have more time.
Send me a PM for a Role Play or if you would like to see what sort of an army I could build for you.
--Gunther (AKA: Old School)
Gunthers Cast of Hooligans
Most Recent Posts
OOC: Cal meets Hook in the galley for breakfast
As the stroke of his pocket watch passed 24-hundred, the captain found not a wink of sleep in his bunk. The night wore on and he heard the engine cut off which meant the China Doll floated through space on nothing but auxiliary. Mechanic-slash-nun they picked up wasn’t half bad, he thought; after take off she’d alerted him to some serious build up in the catalyzer. Was a shame, too. No spares in storage--not much of anything in storage, matter-of-fact. The Baker woman said she might be able to breathe more life into the catalyzer, depending on how it looked opened up. Though his face didn’t show it, least he hoped not, seeing the China Doll in such a state made his stomach churn. It was kind of the nun, thinking farther than her one-way trip, but he needed someone who could take proper care of the Doll.
As he dozed, Cal couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a wrench in a nun’s hand. Hadn’t seen many nuns, come to think on it, ‘cept in naughty captures, but those were of the frocking variety. The nun’s that is. Even among the fuzzy images dancing behind his eyelids, Captain Strand was still far from sleep. Opening his palm, the pocket watch read four-hundred hours. With a sigh, Cal dragged his fingers across his face and got up to use the head. Kicking the toilet seat up, Cal wet his hands before stretching his stiff, restless back. Badger’s face swum in his head, and Penelope’s words that she checked for anything ‘extra’ fixed to the Doll was a small thread of relief. This whole job smelled of desperation, no doubt, but at least he was still flying. That meant something, he reasoned, and grabbing his towel he headed for the showers.
After a shower and a shave, Cal scowled at his bagged eyelids in the mirror. One sobering thought rose to the surface while watching those steeled eyes: coffee. After dressing, a brown pair of slacks, suspenders, and a green plaid button down, Cal entered the empty galley and sorted out the beans to the mill. Crew would be up soon, he reckoned, and his left hand worked the hand mill after he set the kettle to boil. The grounds done, Cal considered breakfast at the behest of the grumbling in his stomach. They’d had enough for some food fare for take off, these beans included; the theory was to set folks at ease as they settle down to a voyage. The budgeted food for the rest of the journey was more mundane: powdered coffee from here on out, eggs, bacon, fish, potatoes, and protein paste, should they need it.
Captain Strand donned a denim apron before wielding the ten-inch cast iron over the element, placing a few strips of bacon in to render.
“Good morning,” Joe Hooker announced as he walked into the galley. He didn’t know who this man was, but figured he knew what he was doing. He had only been on the job for less than a complete day, but he was tired. It was the usual fatigue. The one he’d been living with for the past ten years or more. Joe noticed the coffee on and found a mug to pour some into when it was ready. He then went to the pantry and cold storage to see what food was available for breakfast.
Joe returned to the galley, put his white apron on, placed his mug on the table and took a seat. He rubbed the sleepy seeds from his eyes, yawned one time and thought to introduce himself. “Are you a member of the crew or a passenger?” Joe thought to ask. “I’m Joe Hooker, but most folks call me Hook.”
“Oh so you’re the fella I have to thank for last night’s feast,” Cal tipped his invisible hat with the bacon-greased chopsticks in his hand, “Cal Strand. This here’s my boat, and it’s a crime I’ve met the food before I met the man. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Joe.” The captain put down the utensils and took a step toward Hook before wiping his hand on his apron and extending it toward him. “You and Abigail did a mighty fine job strappin’ down. I’m not quite sure where she gets the energy, but I’m conjure bein’ young ain’t hurtin’.” After shaking Hook’s hand, he picked up the chopsticks again and started turning the bacon. “You sure know your way around a grill, sir, and of that you have no idea how grateful I am,” he said, nodding as he fondly remembered the burger and fries he inhaled, cold, after most had gone to bed. On the subject, Hook was up a mite early himself. Come to think of it, he may have heard some shouting from someone in the crew quarters.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“I’s always been a early riser, suh,” Hook responded. “As far as the cookin’ goes, ah grew up on a farm on Hera. We worked from sun up to sun down. On occasion, the woman of the house taught mah self and anotha how ta cook. I guess I actually took to it. To be honest with ya, suh. I’s a lookin’ forward to gettin’s some seafood on New Melbourne, which I can cook up here in da galley. I have a woopin recipe for some shrimp gumbo. Mebee some other stuff as well.”
“Mr Strand, I shore do appreciate you given me this here job. I really needed somethin’ to do. It had been near fo’ weeks since I had a job. Last ship I worked on went to the scrap yard. Thank you, Mr. Strand.”
Cal’s bacon hissed in the skillet as he set a fresh side into the iron, “I needed hands, you needed pay. I couldn’t think of a better fix to both our problems. Say,” Strand gestured with the chopsticks toward Joe, “A little bird told me you were packing some firepower when you came a-callin’.” He placed the already cooked bacon on a plate and handed it to Hook. “You jest a collector or have some history under your belt?” The way Hook stood, Cal inferred he’d seen combat. There was a sort of resting that men and women who’d served adopted when they were comfortable, and one for when they weren’t.
Joe used the grill, the same grill he used the night before with the burgers. He poured some oil onto the grill and rubbed it around with a wide spatula. Then cracked three eggs directly onto the grill. “Ah hope there is enough bacon there for two?” Joe asked his host.
“Ah do have a few firearms, suh,” Joe admitted. “When ah was a boy, the other boys and ah would go plinkin once in a bit on the back forty. We also used to hunt and fish. I’m hopin’ there will be time for that on New Melbourne.” Joe didn’t feel comfortable talking about the war. But felt, maybe this man had some experience too. “Ah grew up on Hera and fought on Hera. Ah was at the Valley with Sargeant Reynolds.” Joe didn’t want to talk about that. They lost so many people that day including his brothers. The mention of the Valley disturbed Joe. He stopped what he was doing, retrieved a mug from the pantry, filled it with coffee and placed it on the table next to the previous cup of coffee. He returned to cooking his eggs. It was a time in his life, he wished he could forget. The nightmares haunzim. He remembered what the few who remained often said about that battle...
Cal nodded as the man shared a piece of his upbringing, then a part of his grim past. Serenity Valley, all knew it, all had seen the holos distributed by the Alliance in the name of ‘documenting’ the battle. Really, it became a public spectacle of what happened when folk disobeyed. In silence, Strand watched the man break from what he was doing to fill another mug of coffee and place it on the table. The act itself wasn’t the strange thing; it was the look on Joe’s face, the way his movements went rigid, the far off look in his eye.
Having been to Hera in the days leading up to the onslaught, Cal could have said he’d met the man Hook described, or that he’d shuttled weapons to the Alliance and Browncoats alike for that very battle. Instead, Cal respected the man’s silence and when a minute or so had gone by, offered, “I’m sure we can make some time on New Mel for a spell. Not a hunter myself, but I do like to fish.” Cal put the finishing touches on the strips of bacon for two and untied his apron, hanging it on a hook beside the ice box. Hook had taken the lead on the grill, so Captain Strand rounded the counter to the table and chairs where two mugs of coffee sat, tendrils of steam stretching upward. “May I?” Cal asked, pawing a mug of fresh coffee and placing the plate of bacon in the center of the table. The smells of coffee and bacon set his stomach to grumbling in earnest now, and he sat opposite the kitchen as he watched Hook finish up.
Hook put the eggs on a plate and placed them at his seat on the table. He went back to the grill, turned off the burners, ready to clean it after breakfast. He came back to the seat at the table, gave Cal Strand a smile. “This sho’ does look tasty, Cap’n Strand. Enjoy!”
“The nice thing about fishin’ is the peace and quiet. Ah can do either one if you want some company.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, tucking into the food. “What sort of fishing are you keen on? Lake or sea? Crabbing? Personally, I’m a fan of the lake; the sea’s beautiful, but the serenity of the lake gets me every time.” Between mouthfuls, the captain alternated sips of coffee the skilled deckhand had prepared. If eating on the China Doll was always like this, Rex was going to be vindicated in his slanderous accusation of his expanding waistline.
“Ah sho can appreciate yo sentiments to the lake. I would have to agree. But I have certain marine wildlife ah aim to catch. One being shrimp, which is a whole lot different than fishin’ ah’d be OK with buying some if we had to. But what ah truly want to catch is a swo’fish and we won’t find any of them in no lake, Cap’n Strand.” Joe allowed a smile, thinking about the possibility of reeling in a large fish like that. “I could go for some salmon in one of the larger rivers or even in that lake a’ yours. Salmon will gather in a lake before heading upriver to spawn in the springtime. I guess I could skip the swordfish and go for Salmon.”
Joe turned to the Captain, “Would you be OK with salmon fishing, suh?”
Food in mouth, Cal let out a sound of pure delight, “Hook, you and I are gonna get along just fine.”
When breakfast ended and the Captain went about his business, Joe Hooker took the dirty dishes to the sink. The grill was cooled off enough to clean and he did just that. He scoured the grill to ensure it was free from food debris, sparkling. Next, he turned his attention to the dishes in the sink. He filled the sink with hot soapy water and scrubbed the utensils, dishes, and mugs, leaving them to dry in a rack. He left his apron on, poured another cup of coffee, and waited to see if the passengers would come to the galley for bacon and eggs. He could pull out the toaster too if needed.
As the stroke of his pocket watch passed 24-hundred, the captain found not a wink of sleep in his bunk. The night wore on and he heard the engine cut off which meant the China Doll floated through space on nothing but auxiliary. Mechanic-slash-nun they picked up wasn’t half bad, he thought; after take off she’d alerted him to some serious build up in the catalyzer. Was a shame, too. No spares in storage--not much of anything in storage, matter-of-fact. The Baker woman said she might be able to breathe more life into the catalyzer, depending on how it looked opened up. Though his face didn’t show it, least he hoped not, seeing the China Doll in such a state made his stomach churn. It was kind of the nun, thinking farther than her one-way trip, but he needed someone who could take proper care of the Doll.
As he dozed, Cal couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a wrench in a nun’s hand. Hadn’t seen many nuns, come to think on it, ‘cept in naughty captures, but those were of the frocking variety. The nun’s that is. Even among the fuzzy images dancing behind his eyelids, Captain Strand was still far from sleep. Opening his palm, the pocket watch read four-hundred hours. With a sigh, Cal dragged his fingers across his face and got up to use the head. Kicking the toilet seat up, Cal wet his hands before stretching his stiff, restless back. Badger’s face swum in his head, and Penelope’s words that she checked for anything ‘extra’ fixed to the Doll was a small thread of relief. This whole job smelled of desperation, no doubt, but at least he was still flying. That meant something, he reasoned, and grabbing his towel he headed for the showers.
After a shower and a shave, Cal scowled at his bagged eyelids in the mirror. One sobering thought rose to the surface while watching those steeled eyes: coffee. After dressing, a brown pair of slacks, suspenders, and a green plaid button down, Cal entered the empty galley and sorted out the beans to the mill. Crew would be up soon, he reckoned, and his left hand worked the hand mill after he set the kettle to boil. The grounds done, Cal considered breakfast at the behest of the grumbling in his stomach. They’d had enough for some food fare for take off, these beans included; the theory was to set folks at ease as they settle down to a voyage. The budgeted food for the rest of the journey was more mundane: powdered coffee from here on out, eggs, bacon, fish, potatoes, and protein paste, should they need it.
Captain Strand donned a denim apron before wielding the ten-inch cast iron over the element, placing a few strips of bacon in to render.
“Good morning,” Joe Hooker announced as he walked into the galley. He didn’t know who this man was, but figured he knew what he was doing. He had only been on the job for less than a complete day, but he was tired. It was the usual fatigue. The one he’d been living with for the past ten years or more. Joe noticed the coffee on and found a mug to pour some into when it was ready. He then went to the pantry and cold storage to see what food was available for breakfast.
Joe returned to the galley, put his white apron on, placed his mug on the table and took a seat. He rubbed the sleepy seeds from his eyes, yawned one time and thought to introduce himself. “Are you a member of the crew or a passenger?” Joe thought to ask. “I’m Joe Hooker, but most folks call me Hook.”
“Oh so you’re the fella I have to thank for last night’s feast,” Cal tipped his invisible hat with the bacon-greased chopsticks in his hand, “Cal Strand. This here’s my boat, and it’s a crime I’ve met the food before I met the man. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Joe.” The captain put down the utensils and took a step toward Hook before wiping his hand on his apron and extending it toward him. “You and Abigail did a mighty fine job strappin’ down. I’m not quite sure where she gets the energy, but I’m conjure bein’ young ain’t hurtin’.” After shaking Hook’s hand, he picked up the chopsticks again and started turning the bacon. “You sure know your way around a grill, sir, and of that you have no idea how grateful I am,” he said, nodding as he fondly remembered the burger and fries he inhaled, cold, after most had gone to bed. On the subject, Hook was up a mite early himself. Come to think of it, he may have heard some shouting from someone in the crew quarters.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“I’s always been a early riser, suh,” Hook responded. “As far as the cookin’ goes, ah grew up on a farm on Hera. We worked from sun up to sun down. On occasion, the woman of the house taught mah self and anotha how ta cook. I guess I actually took to it. To be honest with ya, suh. I’s a lookin’ forward to gettin’s some seafood on New Melbourne, which I can cook up here in da galley. I have a woopin recipe for some shrimp gumbo. Mebee some other stuff as well.”
“Mr Strand, I shore do appreciate you given me this here job. I really needed somethin’ to do. It had been near fo’ weeks since I had a job. Last ship I worked on went to the scrap yard. Thank you, Mr. Strand.”
Cal’s bacon hissed in the skillet as he set a fresh side into the iron, “I needed hands, you needed pay. I couldn’t think of a better fix to both our problems. Say,” Strand gestured with the chopsticks toward Joe, “A little bird told me you were packing some firepower when you came a-callin’.” He placed the already cooked bacon on a plate and handed it to Hook. “You jest a collector or have some history under your belt?” The way Hook stood, Cal inferred he’d seen combat. There was a sort of resting that men and women who’d served adopted when they were comfortable, and one for when they weren’t.
Joe used the grill, the same grill he used the night before with the burgers. He poured some oil onto the grill and rubbed it around with a wide spatula. Then cracked three eggs directly onto the grill. “Ah hope there is enough bacon there for two?” Joe asked his host.
“Ah do have a few firearms, suh,” Joe admitted. “When ah was a boy, the other boys and ah would go plinkin once in a bit on the back forty. We also used to hunt and fish. I’m hopin’ there will be time for that on New Melbourne.” Joe didn’t feel comfortable talking about the war. But felt, maybe this man had some experience too. “Ah grew up on Hera and fought on Hera. Ah was at the Valley with Sargeant Reynolds.” Joe didn’t want to talk about that. They lost so many people that day including his brothers. The mention of the Valley disturbed Joe. He stopped what he was doing, retrieved a mug from the pantry, filled it with coffee and placed it on the table next to the previous cup of coffee. He returned to cooking his eggs. It was a time in his life, he wished he could forget. The nightmares haunzim. He remembered what the few who remained often said about that battle...
’...no one leaves Serenity, you just learn to live there.’
Cal nodded as the man shared a piece of his upbringing, then a part of his grim past. Serenity Valley, all knew it, all had seen the holos distributed by the Alliance in the name of ‘documenting’ the battle. Really, it became a public spectacle of what happened when folk disobeyed. In silence, Strand watched the man break from what he was doing to fill another mug of coffee and place it on the table. The act itself wasn’t the strange thing; it was the look on Joe’s face, the way his movements went rigid, the far off look in his eye.
Having been to Hera in the days leading up to the onslaught, Cal could have said he’d met the man Hook described, or that he’d shuttled weapons to the Alliance and Browncoats alike for that very battle. Instead, Cal respected the man’s silence and when a minute or so had gone by, offered, “I’m sure we can make some time on New Mel for a spell. Not a hunter myself, but I do like to fish.” Cal put the finishing touches on the strips of bacon for two and untied his apron, hanging it on a hook beside the ice box. Hook had taken the lead on the grill, so Captain Strand rounded the counter to the table and chairs where two mugs of coffee sat, tendrils of steam stretching upward. “May I?” Cal asked, pawing a mug of fresh coffee and placing the plate of bacon in the center of the table. The smells of coffee and bacon set his stomach to grumbling in earnest now, and he sat opposite the kitchen as he watched Hook finish up.
Hook put the eggs on a plate and placed them at his seat on the table. He went back to the grill, turned off the burners, ready to clean it after breakfast. He came back to the seat at the table, gave Cal Strand a smile. “This sho’ does look tasty, Cap’n Strand. Enjoy!”
“The nice thing about fishin’ is the peace and quiet. Ah can do either one if you want some company.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, tucking into the food. “What sort of fishing are you keen on? Lake or sea? Crabbing? Personally, I’m a fan of the lake; the sea’s beautiful, but the serenity of the lake gets me every time.” Between mouthfuls, the captain alternated sips of coffee the skilled deckhand had prepared. If eating on the China Doll was always like this, Rex was going to be vindicated in his slanderous accusation of his expanding waistline.
“Ah sho can appreciate yo sentiments to the lake. I would have to agree. But I have certain marine wildlife ah aim to catch. One being shrimp, which is a whole lot different than fishin’ ah’d be OK with buying some if we had to. But what ah truly want to catch is a swo’fish and we won’t find any of them in no lake, Cap’n Strand.” Joe allowed a smile, thinking about the possibility of reeling in a large fish like that. “I could go for some salmon in one of the larger rivers or even in that lake a’ yours. Salmon will gather in a lake before heading upriver to spawn in the springtime. I guess I could skip the swordfish and go for Salmon.”
Joe turned to the Captain, “Would you be OK with salmon fishing, suh?”
Food in mouth, Cal let out a sound of pure delight, “Hook, you and I are gonna get along just fine.”
When breakfast ended and the Captain went about his business, Joe Hooker took the dirty dishes to the sink. The grill was cooled off enough to clean and he did just that. He scoured the grill to ensure it was free from food debris, sparkling. Next, he turned his attention to the dishes in the sink. He filled the sink with hot soapy water and scrubbed the utensils, dishes, and mugs, leaving them to dry in a rack. He left his apron on, poured another cup of coffee, and waited to see if the passengers would come to the galley for bacon and eggs. He could pull out the toaster too if needed.
When I look out my window
Many sights to see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
That is strange
So strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
Mmm-hmm, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
When I look over my shoulder
What do you think I see?
Some other cat lookin' over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange
Sure is strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch, yeah
Beatnicks are out to make it rich
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
You've got to pick up every stitch
The rabbits runnin' in the ditch
Beatnicks out to make it rich
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Where'd I go
When I look out my window
What do you think I see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
It's strange
Sure is strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
The rabbits runnin' in the ditch
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
Where'd I go
Where'd I go
Many sights to see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
That is strange
So strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
Mmm-hmm, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
When I look over my shoulder
What do you think I see?
Some other cat lookin' over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange
Sure is strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch, yeah
Beatnicks are out to make it rich
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
You've got to pick up every stitch
The rabbits runnin' in the ditch
Beatnicks out to make it rich
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Where'd I go
When I look out my window
What do you think I see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
It's strange
Sure is strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
The rabbits runnin' in the ditch
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
Where'd I go
Where'd I go
Cube
@HEAVY METAL She did not know the kitten climbed inside the dryer. :(
The sad fact about having pets is they die. I always had pets growing up and eventually, they all died. I had a cat which I loved get hit by a car. I put her in a plastic bag and buried her in the woods. Another time, a female cat, had a litter of kittens. They couldn't have been five or six months old. My mom was doing the laundry and one jumped into the dryer. It was nice and warm. I'm sure the kitten thought it was great while the drum was not spinning. When my mom heard the thumping noise in the dryer, she surmised it was just the pair of shoes she had washed. Then found his body when she emptied the dryer.
protrusion
She keeps her Moet et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet
"Let them eat cake", she says
Just like Marie Antoinette
A built-in remedy
For Khrushchev and Kennedy
At anytime an invitation
You can't decline
Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
To avoid complications
She never kept the same address
In conversation
She spoke just like a baroness
Met a man from China
Went down to Geisha Minah
Then again incidentally
If you're that way inclined
Perfume came naturally from Paris (naturally)
For cars she couldn't care less
Fastidious and precise
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Drop of a hat she's as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild
She's all out to get you
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
You wanna try
In her pretty cabinet
"Let them eat cake", she says
Just like Marie Antoinette
A built-in remedy
For Khrushchev and Kennedy
At anytime an invitation
You can't decline
Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
To avoid complications
She never kept the same address
In conversation
She spoke just like a baroness
Met a man from China
Went down to Geisha Minah
Then again incidentally
If you're that way inclined
Perfume came naturally from Paris (naturally)
For cars she couldn't care less
Fastidious and precise
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Drop of a hat she's as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild
She's all out to get you
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite
Wanna try?
You wanna try
© 2007-2026