понедельник, 22 октября 2007 г.

Man camping deutsh

Schlapp. Schlapp. Sandals fold between hoes and asphalt back and forth. Abdominal mass wuppert in time for the steps under the checkered knit vest. Karl-Heinrich shuffles puffing from the laundry room. Schlapp. Schlapp. His forehead glistens. Weld into old, the temple down, entangled in silvery hair wreath. He is soon soaked. The few remaining hairs are key in thick strands across the head combed. Does full then.

Remember to wash hands. Are bad but also cleaned the sink. The campsites in Germany are cleaner. But with cleaning hamses abroad not too. Except in Singapore. As you pop se yes, wennde ne Kippe auffen curb throw. The foreigners in general is rather strange. But beautiful areas ham se da, where he resides.

He rubs at the left eye socket. In the eye sees it is not much more. Aggravated evaluating distances when driving. Yes, but you must not tell each. Produces only unrest.

Schlapp. Schlapp. Back to the caravans. A little wind today. The flag dangles slow down. Schwarzrotgoldenes crape fast. He plops in his chair in the tent camp. There, he sits still and monitored the abgezirkelten Wegstreifen in his field of vision. One must also know what is going on. The Dutchman sneaks over. Ne cheese, the skin, yellow, sort of milky and depressed. And other würd So I never know. Nee. In life nich. Senfiges hair and mustache wie'n dead dove-tail. Kähähä. Was probably a wash. His wife würd I was told. Washing. This is not men work! When is probably eh hop and. Helps eh nix.

His sack itches. Again. Karl-Heinrich scrapes. At least for the next few minutes toddles the itching. Well, as long as there are no blind rats. Molli, bring even beer, cigarettes, lighter and ashtray nen out.

He thinks. His thoughts shimmer in the boring colors of the world. Oh, there's the Dane. What does the tractor but it'sa runs. When driving with his nen hochtuckert mountain, but all the outdated Nudibranch behind him and no one can foresee what rußigem smoke. Betting, which must be every other week cleaning his caravan so that nobody thinks that the front would be deleted black? And ever. The woman has also not under control. The beer bottles from yesterday are still auffer sitting area outside. And what the squeaks, wennse the building. Sowas burn me not translated Watt ordinary lubricating oil, which is also not know. Beer. Oh. Molli, watt is nu? Should I have to get moldy, or the slow times what?

His wife is trainingsbehost peels from the caravan interior. She is a good woman. Hard. Neatly. Bügelt preens and without that you always have to say. She likes her husband Somehow. She has also married him. That is now also have ne while ago. Probably she was also in love with him. Whether and how, they do not know more precisely. Yes, the memory fades with time. That is now also have ne while ago. And there also worse than Blömelskötter hot.

Karl-Heinrich pushes the Pinte, the uvula to damp. But nothing goes over a cool beer. Foam from the crown caught in yesterday mustache. He pushes a harvest in 1923 under the hair Busch round between the lips. Where is the lighter? Molli, but I have said. Oh, da. I thought 'already. Tastes like always. Only hard to get in France, the Dinger. Do you always carry several rods when one away. The smoke here so strange herb. Frenchman-an association of dance teachers. Ouioui. Gay language. Besides wine, a baguette and Straps in ballet rumhüpfen may also not much.

Once again the Dutchman. Assuming a walk with his wife. That should invade Molli times. What women always walking? Just like the looks lubricates the ever double thick butter on your bread. Schlumpige Fettschwampe. Funny geschrägtes, siruppiges hatse face. Schmoddergraubräunliche grimace. But peacock eyes. Does away. And just smash them. Und'n ass wie'n ocean steamer. Kähähä. And he Manuf When Sofaschoners my soul! What I'ma wimp. Can certainly rumschubsen. If, as if 'it does nothing in the leaden. What does limp sausage. What comes since then? A Pole? Sowas leave here on the square?

With God, there is a yes Pils in the neck sour, as one can do. Well, if the next to us. The werd ich. Yes. The show, I, on which side the bread is gebuttert. And the Leeraner since. Tits on the Komische eagle on its flag. And since when is the German flag below land blue? Where Are's no ordinary yellow color? Leer, where is it? The French always reads newspapers. Terrible. Smartass. Perhaps even at the reception only foreign. Bring sure even his grandmother, how to duck milks. If I have nothing in German wars, I will buy nothing. It should be simple to the whole world to learn English. Then ham, we are no language problems. I always tell's gutted. But listen to me yes eh kei.

Before louder excitement he nearly burns the fingers on his stump ollen cigarette. Where is actually the ashtray. My dear Kukuschinski, Molli. Irgendwatt vergisstse always. Can you still get smooth the fleas.

He ascht on the lawn. When there's really eating? Soon Is 17:30. What? The next door to invite us to a restaurant? Why did I get an extra menu for three weeks? Today is Erbsuppe turn.

Karl-Heinrich coughs. Pus clashes. He spits in his pale pink cloth handkerchief. Here in the restaurant War I but eh just weird cheese, fried frogs or any birds that are in übermenschengroßen table tennis nets afoul. Baloney with sauce and raisins. Nee thank you. On something I do not admit grilled fart nich. Moreover, the stern today in television. Let's see, I datt the satellite dish until then returned to running gekricht hab.

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