Women This Overweight Puta Fireplace 
Women fucking chimney carries a lifetime living in the neighborhood. Out to buy bread stuffed in your bathrobe, walking on house slippers that have seen too many sidewalks. Say hello to everyone without exception, but is very selective when to initiate a conversation. And when it does, when you find someone who really deserves a few words, grabs him by the arm and develops standard dialogue, consistent in three parts, namely: part one, questions of courtesy on the relatives of the victim (and Andresito such, has approved all of this quarter? "And as he goes to your dad, you have said something of the gallbladder?" And your cousin, when released from prison?). Part two, something more intimate questions (What rubs you ran those? And urinary infection, and completely heal you? And fungi are gone?). Part Three and final, gossip more about illnesses, deaths and natural disasters (You know, Mr. Gabriel? The police has arrested him for planting marijuana in the hall, and claimed it was for medical treatment. What you heard what's Chichita, of the DOCEBO? killed her husband, the red, giving very strong with the broomstick. And you think the rise of the river? My son the little boy mojo knee while passing drug in Old Town, as I tell you one thing I tell the other). And always, always, is smoking.
On the street, before seeing her, you can see a flash of smoke column, fifty inches above his head. Your body odor has changed over the years, and nicotine permeates every pore, and that is why snuff smell even after showering. It seems as if the gel fumase too. If you look good on a clear day and sunny enough, we can see with closed eyes a greyish yellow halo accompanying each of its movent. Still it is a civic character, and try not to smoke in common trouble spots, such as elevators or the shop on groceries, so small that all they sell is canned. Actually it does not matter what they pretend to be civic because its coat emits more carbon monoxide than eight cigarettes together. And never takes fire. The neighbors, tired of breath poisoned assaulted them in the back asking candle, decided at the last reunion of the ladder always carry something light, and offer it first. Women fucking
fireplace died this morning, and ironies of life, had nothing to do with snuff. A hooded rob the shop was grocery, and she caught him fucking fire under his coat smelly, knocking him unconscious. Seconds before the hooded, frightened by the foul blackness began to shake the nail clipper carrying as a weapon of offense and dealt a lethal pit in a central artery. Poetically there was no blood, but a gray smoke that spread like dry ice at ground level and covered the entire neighborhood, fog still hard and not paint has disappeared.
