apples peaches baby At least the bed still works Emke, I yell to her from upstairs. The PennSprings mattress compresses with a weak willed screech under me, I think it'll hold us if you want to drag it along behind you. You'll be like some mordant of ghostless sex, guile, guile I tells yah. So our Picaro continues to get by on his wits alone. Basically he's just a rotten mother fucker; a false construct prepossessed with an innately untruthful manner. While his story might be told in a plain spoken or really real quality it's his satire that's such an important element to the narrative. It's important to know that his behavior will always stop just short of criminality. That our picaro's carefree rascality will position him as sympathetic and untouched by any rules or false modesty. There's very little if any actual development inside this fucker; all of it's gone if it was ever there at all. The house stinks. Iss like the bad eggs and the ...