Slam Jalen Brunson it was written poster shirt
I was hoping Delores wouldn’t become a Slam Jalen Brunson it was written poster shirt aggressive rooster, as my recently deceased “Lance” had been, before passing on to “rooster heaven” with the assistance of a local coyote. The rooster I currently had, Gordon, was a sweet boy and was very happy to have Lance gone. Lance had been a fierce rooster who attacked literally every moving thing but the hens and me (displaying extreme good taste and discretion) and I was not prepared to live through as second several years of yet another “attack rooster”. Neither were the neighbor dogs. Nor were the neighbors, for that matter. I really didn’t think this would be a problem, as Delores was such a sweet rooster – showing no violence or aggression at all, and just wanted to sit on my shoulder (rather like a parrot) and look around. He’d snuggle against anyone’s neck or in anyone’s lap who would hold him and he adored being petted. Delores ran around digging for bugs in the lawn – but was just as happy sitting by the kitchen sink watching me trim vegetables or whatever. He made (as all my chickens did) a truce with the cats and was friends with the goats, horses and my other rooster, Gordon. They all slept together in the barn at night.
Slam Jalen Brunson it was written poster shirt
Imagine you’re an average goblin, living your life in your goblin lair, an abandoned tomb long stripped of Slam Jalen Brunson it was written poster shirt former occupants. You make a living scavenging scraps from around the local village, eating worms and squirrels and the occasional rat. You killed an intruder in your lair once, but he came into your house armed and looking for trouble. You took his crossbow and ill-fitting helm, which you keep in your lair because you never know when it will happen again. But what you really want to do is stay out of sight and live your life. Then one night, a bunch of people show up and wander right into your home! There’s a dwarf, a human, a halfling, and a filthy, stinking elf! You grab your crossbow and your ill-fitting helm, and prepare to defend yourself again. Your first arrow buries itself in the dwarf’s shield. You dodge the human’s arrow, and the dwarf’s hammer blow. You lose sight of the halfling, while the disgusting elf blasts you in the chest with a bolt of what looks like white fire, which seemed to emanate from the cursed holy symbol around its ugly, misshapen neck. It burns and stings, and reeks of rotten elf magic.