"You are afraid failures with philosophy "
Xavier said that this result this proves that this magazine is a huge foutage of mouth, and I'd better stop there. But a new test "What really motivates you?" Catches my eye, and despite myself I'm back to frantically check boxes.
I spent a good part of the morning on the charge of the summer is a few years, and now I know my color is green, I need to improve my emotional intelligence, and I am a buyer compulsive disorder.
I rub my beard under the critical eye of Xavier. He asked me if there is not a test entitled "Do you know you regain control, "and I avoid replying he was right, but it's a test I will not.
After discovering that I am motivated by the need for security, I put the magazine and offers Xavier a small workout outside. We go out into the garden, and I do note that the garden looks better every time I see it. After getting fitted with iron bars, my friend forces me to make a kind of ritual hello I never understood it was his invention or traditional.
-En garde!
-If you say so.
He attacks from the very Initially, probably to make me go into the fight faster. I repel several attacks calmly, and he decided to accelerate the pace. We weapons colliding in a clang, but I do not give ground.
Xavier prepares his departure and wants to complete my training, I know. I attempted a feint from the side, he pushes the last minute with an oath amused. He twirls his iron bar over his head and killed him in my direction. I parry the blow and the shock makes me shiver to the shoulders.
I push a kick to regain my senses. It moves to the side and tries to touch me in the ribs, but I ducked backwards. It reminds me not to walk on the garden.
"You are a combative nature"
This time it's me attacking hard. I go into a war frenzy, the cornering for not giving him time to develop strategy. In an effort idiot, he tries to put a frontal attack, with one hand and grab his iron bar, while the other I hit him in the face with mine.
sound hollow and dull sounding, and Xavier screams hate. It tears me his weapon, and I mowed the legs to make me fall. My back has just hit the floor, and I just long to see the foot of my Coach fall on my chest.
It is as if the air was expelled from my lungs, and with him a few vital organs. I have a few seconds unable to breathe, with blurred vision Xavier looked at me, a purple bruise swelling visibly at the cheekbone.
He smiled at me when I resume breathing with difficulty, and explain that we probably never fight over. But I know he is afraid now that he understood that I could fight back.
vision still blurred, I see my friend's face warp, make outlandish colors and shapes, until I reveal his true nature. Her skin is translucent, to reveal a skull-white makes me shudder. Its jaws begin to move and emit sounds that resemble plaintive groans, the cries of crows. Then they become words, and I need a few seconds to get to integrate what the skeleton just told me:
-It's done. Now we need to talk to Roger's death.
Just returned from the discussion that I just had, I left my mother's house, thinking to go for a stroll, why not even go visit my father. In the alley I crossed my little sister chasing a cat in the caller with a soft voice. I asked him if it's for eating.
-You 're too dumb, "she replies.
I push through the suburban houses that look alike but I know by heart. Without cars, the district looks even more deserted than usual. In truth I seek someone who is slow to arrive.
"You do not wait too long"
Down the street, two kids are trying to trade a barrel of weedkiller. As I approached them, they lower their voices without losing their ride. When I ask them what they build, one of them, the eldest, cowardly "bomb" without looking up at me.
A kind of yeti wearing an old coat out of a garden hedge, uttering a guttural roar. It darkens the two kids who run away by calling for help. He spits on the ground, his nose in his fingers and growls a sentence incomprehensible. His beard and long hair are strewn with twigs and grease.
-Roger, I say ...
For answer, he groans rumbling in, realizing that the bomb is heavier as he imagined. He throws the can over his head and shouted that he is quite to fart.
-You came to tell me that you turn in your time, "I said calmly.
Not at all.
"I understand you.
-I t'exploser mouth, you and your world of shit. He
fly again in his fingers. His gaze is loaded with a crazy little town, but I do not really care. Small blue flashes start to surround him, and we talk about these future times when everything goes wrong.
Roger remark also heralds the arcing. He begins to cry softly, drooling and stamping. He throws the barrel of weedkiller on the ground in a last desperate effort hoping no doubt that it explodes.
-Bye Roger. You've made the right decision.
-I have not decided, "he sobbed. You understand that if you do nothing it is others who will win ...
-Who?
Electricity starts to crackle around him like a rattle. He seems to think his answer, but quickly left to settle for "leftists.". My mind goes in all directions, whereas Roger is caught up in his own time. A vortex covers, suction power with him, and all the lamps of the street, yet extinct, explode. The vortex is contracting in on itself and suddenly there's nothing and nobody.
"You have trouble accepting reality"
Definitely one of the biggest assholes I ever met. I pick up a can of weed killer, not the kids just look it up. I dropped a few hundred yards away, in the garden of a house that I know abandoned. And oddly, relieving me of the bomb, I feel lighter for real.
I walk up to my father while floating on the sidewalks, and in the garden as usual, busy fussing on his barbeque. I asked him what he is up and speak at a glance.
-A cat that I found myself whispering there. Not say to your brother.
Upon my return home is asleep. Vincent is sleeping on the couch in front of a DVD menu that runs in a loop, and growls when I turn off the TV, saying he wants to watch the end of his film, before returning to sleep too dry.
I climb the stairs to my room and my bed is on the magazine of psychological tests. I'm doing some new things for me, ranging from "Are you a real nice 'to' Are you stressed at work? ".
Then the magazine in hand, I go quietly to the bedroom Xavier. It has loud snoring and I always see his skull through the skin of his face. Apart from the irritating noise it produces, my friend has all of a corpse.
Slowly, I approach my magazine of his mouth and begins to make back and come towards me his face stalling on his breath. I remain motionless, moving only the hand for a good twenty minutes.
"You are not one-tenth of what you would be"
It makes decisions, that's all what we do. Me anyway. And when I remove the magazine, it's like I die a little.
Note: Watch out for new readers
Soon: Vincent impatient
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