wolves.

If someone were to ask me what is missing in my life, I would say a good book. I need a book that inspires and a book that wants to kick my ass at the same time. I need nice binded words that sparkle magical flurries upon me.

Last night I was thrown to the wolves. Eight wolves attacked me. I was unarmed. I knocked the first four wolves out within and hour. But the papa wolf was staring at me, he was gnarling (which is a word that totally fits here). He had three heads. I tried to punch out one of the heads but it growled and told another head to take me over and end this battle.

I took a bathroom break.

I came back and I could tell the wolves would have rathered me wet myself. I walked quietly but confidently right up to the black three headed monster and stared in straight in the eyes. All six of them.

My friends busted out of no where and shot two of them.

It was me and the three. I punched all three out at one time. And it was over. I did a signature stomach kick and then it was over.

I rewarded my self with choco cheerios.

And that was my night.