posted on Jun, 12 2008 @ 12:53 PM
In the first Iraq War, my cousin drove over a citizen with his tank, and stole his Koran. He got away with it, for a while.
He began to feel the Koran was haunted, it still had the scent of the man's cologne on it, and my cousin began to smell that scent everywhere.
My cousin took drugs and drank all the time to get away from what he did, he threw the Koran away, but he can still smell the cologne.
He's 38 years old, living in his mother's basement, he lives off of his parents, has no job, and is a family pariah. Everyone ignores him when he
speaks, no one goes to parties at his parents, because he's there to mooch up all the beer. Everyone hates him, and groans at the mention of his
He's a waste, he's the living dead, and he can still smell the cologne.
Karma's a bitch, even if it's not a subject in a stolen Koran.
I hope Motari falls apart a little more each day every time he sees a dog. I hope he never gets used to living in the darkness of his parent's