small arms

by little camilla jean welsch

guess my number.

no, guess.


i guess i only know some standard french.

that’s called a little firearm.

that’s what i got. little fire arms.

especially when they’re shot with adrenaline. ๐Ÿ™‚

you want me to pick that car up?

dude, why am i talking about guns?

i’m not.

i’m talking about my little arms.

if guns are arms, and arms are guns,

then, i don’t even know what’s what.


said the tiny harlequin: “you know what?” and smiled and put her arms up.

for what?

for a hug, that’s what.

lol ๐Ÿ™‚

then she said, “you wanna tear some shit up? …. dude, stop me now! wtf!? lol.” and picked her gun back up.

i don’t own one. but i do have a pen that actually can deliver some silver you know whats.

whats? silver bullets.

what’s up? ๐Ÿ™‚

zu frueh am Sonntag. aber tres amusant quand il faut, non?
translation: “too early on Sunday…. but, highly entertaining when it comes down to it. no?”

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