chapter two: Our dear mancuso sat warily against the stone wall. His rags lay before him, and underneath, barely from the sun, his thighs, his exposed calves, hungered in the sun. the shade drew down in leaf shapes, from the tall swaying sucker trees. A family of raccoons watched nearby, and had moved in nearby mancuso. Mancuso had been living in his spot for three days. His legs were tired, he wearily stroked his machine gun, to make sure it was clean. The family of raccoons watched warily, nearby. “eshaling heavily, our sweet mancuso , tired, remembering the last of the wamed water he had drank: they were empty, laying nearby covering the thick moist damp leaf carpet.he sat and gently stroked the Mp5. “oh dear, “ he exhaled, and focused in across the yard. The shade grew cooler, a streem of breeze swifted through the tall high canopied Sucker trees; their limbs far above, the leaves sighing happily amongst the wind. Our hero, far below, began, “Arrggg..” The mighty sword swished lightly into position, smiling, the dirt, and debri, falling lazily back onto the ground. The leaves, were swishy beneath our dear hero’s feet, his shoes, were ragged, and had protected his feet, made of soft and nearly air-light cloth material, and a sole, who, designed by the Government, would never fall awy, or become damaged. Our dear macuso straightened. His dear and ragged top became awake. Shaking in the sun, the thin material was worn, nearly see-through.His black material let in air, and sunshine. The shade was cool, and there was nearly no sun. our dear and sweet, innocent mancuso stood erect in the sun.The tall sucker trees swaying above him, the dear family wondering, when mancuso would go. Mancuso slipped towards the sunlight. The blackberry bushes scraped him, and tore at his ragged pantaloons, who hung about his waist, the thin strip of material hung them from his shoulder. His MP5 houlster, hanging about empty, slappingagaisnt his left ribs.the tip of the long sword swagged heavily , a steady, dangerousslice along the ground, through the leaves. Mancuso, dragging the sword, listening steadily the its hiss along the ground, sliced steadily along, letting the vines scratch him. The sunlight shone brightly, blinding sweet mancuso, his chest loving the deep sunlight from our sky, his Long and slick MP5 silenced machine gun shone blackly against the sun, mirroring. A guard along the side of the masions spotted mancuso, his little black figure, emerging from the foliage two football fields away, a small black dot, his long and magnificent MP5 machine gun, a black line, and his emegingg body. Through the scope, mancuso had long black , dry hair, down to his chest, covering his head sillotette, and hiding his cream sking, his black eyebrows perticularily amused our sweet guard. A sly smile curved around his lips. Mancuso squinted towards the stucco mansion, two hundred yards away.
Posted on: Wed, 03 Jul 2013 00:16:19 +0000
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