I used to…

I used to...The strange plague has been the scourge of England for

“five-and-fifty years.” Why do the English stay and fight, rather than retreat to the safety of eastern Europe or Africa?

 

 

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

by Jane Austen & Seth Grahame-Smith

I was feeling great this morning. Everything was so perfect: I had odd dreams before I woke up late, I missed breakfast because I had a long shower, my glasses were lost in the most inappropriate moment, the taxi driver was already late to his next stop, etc… Do you get me now when I am saying that I was having a normal morning?

…but then… something went completely wrong: I missed my flight!

Life feels completely different since then: I am a simple mortal. I used to be that type of lad showing off with my mates of how good/lucky I am at overcoming the most improbable situations to not missing a flight or a bus. Sometimes when friends told me about their embarrassing experiences which screwed up their planned trips, in silence, I just slightly smiled like if I were saying: how could it be possible? It never happens to me. I’m a fucking lucky bastard…

Errrrgh…Not any more PUTO!!!!

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