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prudence, dad Carlo - said Pinocchio.
Carlo rags made for Pinocchio jacket and pants. Dug out from where that ancient sleep hat with a tassel. All this put on Pinocchio: - Our man! - Papa Carlo said approvingly - there is an ABC on you, learn letters, then you will write denunciations -
- Do not ssy Dad, I pump you to the new gelding and the hut on the ruble - said Pinocchio - I saw the girls looking at me on the street. -
- Yes, in the pussy of those whores. They themselves are given for the loot, all the money from the men, so who needs to suck off - Papa Carlo answered, teaching his son.
In the morning, early Buratino spizdil in Carlo's bag, put the primer there and ran into the garbage, on Saturday.
On the way, he looked at the grub, in the windows of supermarkets and looked at the boys - lucky for them, there is another hole, you can earn extra loot - he thought.
The cat crossed the street Basilio, looking for the victim to rob. But Pinocchio did not cause any interest in the cat.
The closer Pinocchio approached the musarna, the louder, not far from her, cheerful music played. This is covered by cops, the musicians of the theater, invited people to the show.
- Yes, fucking anywhere in the Sabbath does not go anywhere, I will work off a little later, Buratino thought, and went to look at the musicians. He saw a canvas balagan, decorated with multi-colored flags. Above the booth, priplyasyvaya, played by musicians.
Downstairs fat aunt was selling tickets.
Near the entrance stood a large crowd, read the poster: PUPPET THEATER SAMPLE
ONLY
ONE
REPRESENTATION
Hurry up! Just five hundred rubles.
Pinocchio kicked in front of the standing boy:
- Hey freak, how much is a ticket? -
The boy answered through clenched teeth: - Five hundred rubles, damn fucking. With a scythe, all is written -
- Grandmas chase, eblan, but now I will follow the fucker - said Pinocchio.
The boy contemptuously whistled: - You do not take me to the gop stop, padla, now I whistle again, the lads will pull up -
- Listen here, siyavka - said Pinocchio - here's your primer, there is no brick, so it will come down. If now you can’t buy an ABC book, then right here you will make a cock and whistle your fraternity, it will work out a more hole for you - said Buratino, stroking his nose-dick. After receiving the money, Pinocchio went to the checkout, stretched his grandmother, fat aunt
- Dyke me a ticket, you fucking cow -
Aunt looked at Pinocchio and was stunned.
- Listen, you're a nit, and this garbage on your face, in working condition? She asked.
- You fuck something. Give me a ticket, padla. Of course it works. - said Pinocchio.
Aunt took the money - After the presentation, you come to me for a couple of minutes and get the loot back, if you do everything right. You understood me, fucking fuck - said aunt and pulling the ticket Buratino, grabbed his penis and breathed excitedly.
- Take your rake away from my nose. I'll think about your proposal, you are a fat bitch - Pinocchio modestly answered.
Pinocchio sat down in the first row, sending a fucking kind of guy with gold finger thick around his neck, poking his nose in the face with his nose and looked around with delight.
On the curtain were dancing girls in small, black, separate bathing suits, scary bearded people with machine guns and other entertaining pictures.
Three times the bell rang, and the curtain rose.
On the right and left of the stage were cardboard trees. Above them
hanging lantern and reflected in a piece of the mirror.
A small man in a long, white shirt with long sleeves appeared from behind the cardboard tree. His face was white, white as chalk. He bowed and said sadly: - Hello, dear bastards, my name is Pierrot ... Now we will play a comedy called; "A girl with blue hair, Or Thirty-three cuffs." I will be fucked with a stick, hit in the face and fuck the cuffs. This pizdets, what a funny comedy -
Because of another cardboard tree, another person jumped out;
th, as Lyuberetskaya Tale in the early nineties.
He bowed: - Hello, hueputaly, I - Harlequin!
After that, he turned to Pierrot and, from the bottom of his heart, drove to his left and right in the face.
- What are you roaring, bitch, if you do not stop, you will get a knee in the balls? - said Harlequin.
- You fuck, I want to marry, and the chick srulila, and you're still here - said Pierrot.
“That deer, horns began to grow,” Harlequin rolled with laughter. He grabbed a baseball bat and backhand fucked Piero along the leg.
- What's your fuckin name? - asked Harlequin.
- Malvina, bitch, fucking - lying on the stage and clutching his leg, answered Pierrot.
- Listen, my fucking viewers ... His chick Srul with his dog, which fucks five times a day, and this horse was going to marry her - said Harlequin and kicked Piero in the balls.
But then he saw Pinocchio - fucking himself with a jet - the Harlequin shouted, pointing his finger at him. - Hey, Pierrot, today your holes seem to be free. I think Karabas-Barabas will like this one with a cock on his face and a working mouth - said Harlequin.
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“May you please be nice!”
Quote
Wandering along the shore of the Black Sea, I stumbled upon a new author for me, and decided to get acquainted with the last work - apparently, the crown of his creations.
I was able to finish reading the phrase: “Juzeppe pushed his thumbs and again decided”, and vomited me — well, what about his story.
Taking advantage of the Chinese respiratory system and quickly adopting Buddhism as a basis for religion, I calmed down a bit and came to my senses. Auto-training helped complete the restoration of the brain destroyed by the story, so I can turn to the author relatively peacefully: the stream of areal fighting, which involuntarily formed after becoming acquainted with the fabulous arrogant, was dissolved by the action of the secret knowledge of Oriental sages.
Dear author!
In order to just try to touch the cult creation of the great writer Alexei Tolstoy (I'm not talking about Carlo Collodi), you need to have at least a few feelings:
- a sense of tact,
- a sense of taste
- a sense of humor.
The wretched mockery of the mediocre hacks over a fairy tale beloved by everyone, evokes a feeling of disgust and shame. What did the author want to tell us with this dirty fan fiction? What rethinking of the famous plot gives us this new porn Prometheus? What is the nature of the scribe humor?
Shifting the Blue Nose to the Gray Dick? Ubiquitous scat humor, naturally causing the gag reflex? Gnarled mate and swearing, successfully replacing, in the opinion of the author, irony and sarcasm?
Feyspalm ...
I do not want to say anything more about this "fairy tale" - literary bastard - except for one small piece of advice to the author:
Master the newly acquired abilities of your hero, and perform with this original number at fairs: the benefits for all will be immeasurably greater.
P. S. I never gave anybody ratings for the story, but I could not resist here: an honestly earned “count” to you from me. Aspen.
Ad populum,
Critic ST
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And I thought there moralphages and hypocrites are not found.
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The story is far from being as wretched as a review of a critique of the CT, a snobby mediocre describing his worthless experiences and other esoteric experiences.
This is a “niche” story, written in the key of a success. com, for "niche" readers. Approach to the evaluation of such a work in terms of literary value and all that, can only cretin.
This is a work from the category of "do not like it - pussy past," it does not and cannot be criticized.
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I think you're wrong, and you realize it
I do not know what a niche is, but you yourself, rather critically, assessed the critic's review
literary value, even if it is not very high, has, in principle, any work, but, with one, I absolutely agree with you - “I don’t like it - pussy past”
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The author is free to do whatever he wants - but sometimes his work does not contain texture, signs for which you can criticize. A critique is, first of all, an assessment of something according to some criteria.
The critic of this work is a person who drinks a glass of shit, then becomes a pose, and begins a long story filled with experiences:
“- oh, really, that kind of shit was! Oh, how wrong and ugly villain, nasravshiy in a glass! "
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I read the comments ... with the exception of the Night wanderer, you are all here discussing the opinion of the Critic, and not the story!
And about the story and have nothing to say?
Because the fairy tale is still shit, and talking about it does not make sense?
Each person has the right to their opinion, what did you get to him?
He at least correctly states his thoughts and argues for his position, although in many respects I disagree with him.
Authors need feedback on his work, not on commentators, IMHO.
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Ahahaha) excellent treshak, for a long time I did not laugh so much on the site. Catch a ten. I said you have a great fairy tale)))
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Aftar hacked?
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Lrosto banter. Critic ST took it as a personal insult. Well, it happens, read Anna Karenina, why go here then.
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normal banter, and the critic just pulled over, and now he reads and re-reads his review and slaps his thighs: ah, yes, critic, ah, well done!
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carry popcorn, I start reading the comments
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I think that by the number of the word “dick”, in the 3-page story, the author set a world record. I propose, as a reward, to hand the author a rolling red dick of wood. Deserved.
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And critics, swore stories wrote even classics.
The wind blows from the south
And the moon rose,
What are you fucking
Didn't come at night?
You did not come at night
Did not come in the afternoon.
Do you think we're jerking off?
Not! Other fuck!
S. Yesenin.
And in general, maybe Giuseppe had a gray dick, and not just a nose. This is an author's find, he sees it.
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Thanks for the comments. Verse awesome.
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The author burned, the author went out ...
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What the hell is going on? Quite at the hands of bitches strayed. Pussy all soon you will, bow to me all immediately. I approve of the story, although I have read three sentences, but such a master like me is enough of it to give an assessment of any creation. Even a whole army of critics with Anfis and other people known within this site stand in line so that I would rate their reviews before publication, which only confirms my greatness and the fact that I need to pray. Now about the story: it does not matter that there are a lot of swear words, any transfer of information as a story, a film or even what you are reading the horse now carries a certain morality, and exactly how it affects a person is the mark for the creator. And all these niggles that do not seem somewhere to the classics and the like, these are songs of the old grandfather in a drunken stupor, in defense of their own morality. That's all. And remember the most important thing, we are all human, so all of us are not very lucky. Now verse.
Buratino sobs in sorrow
He burned his house inadvertently
And Malvina laughs in the heat
It still has rum
Drink, smoke and fuck
Buratinu like yesterday
With this life could easily part
But fate to dummy generous.
P. S. Serge - Fucked Negro! In the zoooooooo!
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What are you, Super Duper deceive everyone. I fucked you in the ass. Come back my love, I will not offend you anymore. Just think in your ear dick you stuck, I'm fond of.
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Thrash Trash is not art. Trash is impossible to evaluate. Trash in literature is the quintessence of graphomania. Thresh beats on emotions, on morality, on social norms. Therefore, the thrash touches the little people, who in the comments then paint on how many kilojoules their percussion flashed. This is normal. Abnormally different. What the fucking fucking and fucking connoisseurs of literature, classics and highly moral research have forgotten here, where people come for new impressions, so that it is more interesting to distort? You look like homeless people who are sitting in a burrow dug in a city dump, behind a bottle of silhouette discuss the flaws of Russia's foreign policy. Fucking creation. Story. Story treshovy. And to treat him the same way. Everyone eats what he likes.
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I apologize for the offtopic. I have no comments on the story, since I could not even read it. But for the analogy of many local experts with the homeless at the dump, I would put the Grunt ten) Exact hit.
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Merrou, it seems you are still sausage from blackberry jam?))
Insult does not settle down in any way?)
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I passed by right here, I look, my friend Serge - who I fucked in the ass, here I dressed in Maxim changed clothes and fantasized that he fucked somebody himself. So, it doesn’t matter to me, but I’m just for justice, so I decided that I need to tell the truth ... about the fact that I fucked Serge - after he asked. He said that the back hole itching it until something is inserted into it, so I decided to insert his tool into it. He then thanked and said that he already had everything there for a long time, and the ass is supple, she asks for a member herself. I asked him to put in more often and buy him a thong and call him by any female name. Of course, I thought he was crazy, but I didn’t tell him about it. Now I was just passing by and decided to share information about who she is this Sarah, oh, ugh, I used to just call him that Serge - with his point at which I often pull him. I’ll go to work in the field, the sun has risen.
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SuperPuper finish fairy tales to tell. Here the whole site knows that you are my whore. And just fuck you like a woman. Come back home, bitch, I will forgive everything. We already thrust a ladle into your back hole and it no longer itches. And we will buy you new thongs and I called you SuperPper. And Negro Stepa invite, if you want. I see you have a crush on him
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Stop fantasizing Serge, I came back from the field today, filming a movie about how I fucked everyone in the ass was canceled simply because they decided that you need to rewrite the script and give you the role of my anal whore. Tell me thanks, I persuaded the creators to take you, as you wanted, now you will be the anal queen as you dreamed. By the way, I’m looking at you at such respected people, you slander you and decided to tell you again that, as I always will, I will stretch your back hole. I understand that you are angry, but for two days I didn’t perdolate you) have patience, my girl, soon I will lose you and, as always, you will lick my black dick. I after all know that you love it and tomorrow I will tell everyone what a lustful slut you are, Serge, and how much you love to jump on a dick.
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