You can't stop what's coming leafboy. I walk all over leaves every autumn, you think this year will be any different? Your flag is a fucking leaf. You chose the one part of the tree that dies every year. Not only that, but it's one of hundreds of leaves, thousands if it's a big tree. All dead come winter. Every winter. A vicious cycle. Totally insignificant. As soon as the tree has had it's way with you you are cast to the Earth to be trod by all other living things. Ants? They not only stomp about you, they will steal your corpse and use it for their people. Birds steal your lifeless shell with impunity. Leaves not only die once, but every year. A brave man dies only once, but leaves die a thousand deaths, or at least 20 or 30 if the tree lives that long. Perhaps more. Every year, leafs crunch beneath my boot. This year shall be no different. So it shall be written. So it shall be done. The day of the rake is at hand because every day is the day of the rake and has always been.
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
Too salty for table salt
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Kripp, when you have dinner with Reynad, do you even need table salt?
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Kripp
American Freedom speaking to Kripp
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ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴋʀɪᴘᴘ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ғɪʟᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴛ sᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғɪx ɪᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴏᴠᴇʀ. sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ *** ****. ᴘʟs ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴀʟ ᴘᴀᴄɪɴᴏ ***ɪɴᴏ ****ʀɪɴᴏ.
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Kripp
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Classic
Dont mind me just turning it to gold
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Dont mind me just turning it to gold
Dont mind me just turning it to gold
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You have been permanently banned from this channel
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You have been permanently banned from this channel ————————————————————————
You have been permanently banned from this channel ————————————————————————
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