The Tale of Lemonman Lemonman wondered about the injustices of the world. He standardisedd to think of these things. It do him happy. He sat on a bed of nailed crushed polystyrene. He knew the fumes would only make him sick, but tranquil he sat and pondered. Mincing, almost. His brain was too full of man-sized imagery to be mincing, Mincing being, as I scan it - to be doing nothing. These injustices made him depressed but by principal on them, he found it gave him a reason. He felt up bored and ready eat. The polystyrene crunched under his weight. He lay and gazed at the sky, a dark green sky.
Betwee n the clouds he saying spots of yellow - the sulphur in his drinking chocolate had started to work. Lemonman leant accross, everywhere his clothes to grab the knife that lay by his reserve on nodules. Taking the knife in atomic number 53 mess he drew a strip down his leg, creating a red stripe in the fatty frame of reference of his thigh. He always felt clean when blood permit and this was no exception. He felt fresh and new like the bree...If you trust to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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