Porcupine Ridge when we turn the safety off, the shots are automatic

astraeus going into the life of crime

Pathetic?
Any other epithets would have sufficed, but the triple trio of doom only tell how they see it. Their makeshift murder of fowl simper and cackle not unlike that of the manner of hyenas, all ghastly and perturbing. Bleary and gauzy-eyed; the boy rises that morn and complies with whatever the scavengers' have him to do;
today, it was reconnaissance — wait, no, it was something borish like being a provided smokescreen for their criminal agenda. “I facking hade it here!”  boyish tongue still apparent (and out of breath), he coninues to gripe, “Take me home, stupid!”