Pour some Hendricks...

[Knuckle]

He slid open the desk drawer next to his computer desk, the rattling inside the result of a large, polished black bottle. He reverently lifted the vessel, running his hand once over the label, revealing the name Hendrick's. The clear spirit poured like a cool spring, its bubbling music the cracking of the ice as it splashed into the short glass, gaily mixing with the tonic resting beneath the ice. As the spirit made itself comfortable in the highball glass, the handsome figure put on one of his favorite soundtracks(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9o-7rPnZhXo). The soothing sounds were like medicine to ones soul, with a profound look of nostalgia of days gone by and games been played, he stared off into space, grasping the glass.

With a nod of resignation, he reflected on his current life as he sipped the fine liquor. The initial taste that greets the tongue is one of a mellow spirit hiding its dapper nature. 45% alcohol by volume, this gin is no slouch. It's fiery reputation as a hair on the chest kind of drink is not misplaced, but the queer distilling methods used to produce this top shelf alcohol quells the 'evergreen' that wrinkles a nose in disgust. With just a splash of tonic gracing its flavor, it invites one to explore it's mysterious flavor and intoxicating effects. The aftertaste is almost as fresh as the first day of spring, leaving one feeling satisfied, but never full.

As the soundtrack continued its haunting and inspiring melodies, the troubled but dashing figure continued to enjoy his drink, reflecting on past loves, losses, triumphs, and mostly regrets. As the glass emptied, he stared into the bottom, a pool of liquid reflecting his gaze back at himself, reflecting the emptiness in his soul.

With a shrug he reached back for the bottle to fill the hole..

[Feachie]

sounds like ernest hemingway and stephen king had a love child named knuckle. i bet you could describe an innocuous wine bottle in the corner, right down to the seam running up the side.

[Feachie]

sounds like ernest hemingway and stephen king had a love child named knuckle. i bet you could describe the shit out of an innocuous wine bottle in the corner, right down to the seam running up the side.

[Arclyte]

Perform any child sacrifices lately, Feachie? You disgusting native.

[Feachie]

i don't know you, but...if you're going to derail someone's um, thread, at least try.

[Ektar]

heyyy look it's big feachie

what's doin girl

[Feachie]

deflowering virgins, tearing pages from bibles, sacrificing children, you know... the usual. :)

[Lzar]

deflowering virgins, tearing pages from bibles, sacrificing children, you know... the usual. :)

sounds like a good morning.

[Ektar]

that's fantastic

[Arclyte]

i don't know you, but...if you're going to derail someone's um, thread, at least try.

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[Feachie]

call, and raise
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[Smyd]

deflowering virgins, tearing pages from bibles, sacrificing children, you know... the usual. :)

Forget Arclyte!!! You're a class act ^_^

Wanna cyber? Online I'm pretty well hung fyi

[Knuckle]

His eyes were haunted and weary. Those that knew him saw a friendly smile that didn't reach his soul, he was polite and clever, but those traits never weighed the scales in his favor when a stranger met his eyes and saw the darkness within.

He didn't much care for strangers anyway, the few people he knew he spoke to sparingly, excluding a significant few. His desires were carnal, if the flesh was satisfied he could ease the nagging doubts deep inside.

Curvaceous figure, full pouting lips, and bosoms rising and falling with short gasps of breath. The brief moments of ecstasy and the rooted feeling of zen following the climax, the visions kept his mind busy when the reality of it wasn't enough.

The darkness gathered deeper around his soul, the nightmares had grown worse of late, tortured by his own mind in his sleep, terrors that would make a grown man weep, he leaned his head against the wall as the shower poured its soothing melody...

He stepped outside to the noise of the night, crickets chirping, frogs calling to find a mate. The late summer moon was covered by clouds this evening, only a few stars shining to bring a glimmer of hope in the shroud of darkness. He pulled forth his smoking apparatus, a smooth polished glass, dark blue with swirls of teal and a few clear spots where the resin from smoked herbs hadn't tainted its surface yet, a maelstrom of stormy sea colors matching the turbulence in his soul. He gently pressed in some fresh marijuana, the pungent odor filling the air with memories of hundreds of past rituals. He duly stared at the orange hairs covering its surface, like a surreal alien plant, it decorated the bud with its tinsel. He lit the torch and inhaled deeply, welcoming the numbing and intoxication. He walked out of the driveway and into the street, the darkness beyond inviting him to its depths; he paused and lit the torch, inhaling deeply, welcoming the darkness, welcoming the present moment.

[Halfling]

He slid open the desk drawer next to his computer desk, the rattling inside the result of a large, polished black bottle. He reverently lifted the vessel, running his hand once over the label, revealing the name Hendrick's. The clear spirit poured like a cool spring, its bubbling music the cracking of the ice as it splashed into the short glass, gaily mixing with the tonic resting beneath the ice. As the spirit made itself comfortable in the highball glass, the handsome figure put on one of his favorite soundtracks(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9o-7rPnZhXo). The soothing sounds were like medicine to ones soul, with a profound look of nostalgia of days gone by and games been played, he stared off into space, grasping the glass.

With a nod of resignation, he reflected on his current life as he sipped the fine liquor. The initial taste that greets the tongue is one of a mellow spirit hiding its dapper nature. 45% alcohol by volume, this gin is no slouch. It's fiery reputation as a hair on the chest kind of drink is not misplaced, but the queer distilling methods used to produce this top shelf alcohol quells the 'evergreen' that wrinkles a nose in disgust. With just a splash of tonic gracing its flavor, it invites one to explore it's mysterious flavor and intoxicating effects. The aftertaste is almost as fresh as the first day of spring, leaving one feeling satisfied, but never full.

As the soundtrack continued its haunting and inspiring melodies, the troubled but dashing figure continued to enjoy his drink, reflecting on past loves, losses, triumphs, and mostly regrets. As the glass emptied, he stared into the bottom, a pool of liquid reflecting his gaze back at himself, reflecting the emptiness in his soul.

With a shrug he reached back for the bottle to fill the hole..

[Knuckle]

Feachie could be a KA with one mumble conversation verifying female identiy =x

[Safon]

Feachie could be a KA with one mumble conversation verifying female identiy =x

Once Feachie joins your angels, you can make out with her while Akyra, Deathgirl and Kimmie share your throbbing schlong

[Feachie]

a quandary indeed, sir knuckle, but sadly i think i'm still going to pass. while it is tempting to perform this menial task in order to gain the acceptance of a few, i think i would much rather keep my respect. thank you for keeping the offer on the table though. ;)

[Ektar]

banned? oh feacho what has befallen you!

[Lucky]

voted most insecure 2012