A bag in use

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Bag with rat, probably sad

Heiko Friedlein, A bag in use There was a rat living somewhere in Middle Europe. It smoked a lot of cigarettes and often decided to listen to Punk Rock music on youtube.com. His house was a bank case under the ground and his body was of pure gold assimilated. Somewhen he flew into an artwork drafted good out of pencil sketching to mark the initial of the artist who had also created him, the golden rat. On a summer day in June the artist decided to visit the well known bank house, go under ground and open the case to fetch his artwork including the golden mark besides his initial and he took the work out of the case after he had opened it with a diligent key and stored both in his bag that he carried on a band over his left shoulder right hand side of his de spongiated pelvis. The sketch shouted, but the traffic on the street was too loud so the shouts could not be heard by anyone, neither the artist, nor passers by. He carried his bag into a supermarket to place it behind the desk of the information counter, since it is not allowed to bring it into the stores cons. the unconstructivity of accustomed thieves, well known in Middle Europe. So there came a warm smoke out of the bag behind the desk of the information counter and rhythmic Punk Rock music, so the employees behind the counter were fired the next day when all was over again and had to aquire for new jobs somewhere in the prairie while also the artist had again fetched his stuff after having bought some new pencils and golden color and vanished in the dusk and purple of the evening. The sketch roared. Now the traffic was silent, cons. the calmness of the night and the artist took his work and asked the rat what it wanted to tell. The rat was suddenly black and his initial was gone so he took the just bought new golden color and colored it golden like he wrote his initial with one of the new pencils bought once more. His cat as large as a dog saw him working and decided not to disturb them. The rat suddenly lost his fear of being shaked in a bag and stopped discarding all initials in his surrounding so the picture could be sold to an arts lover from near or far, from in or outside Middle Europe. So the rat of gold was sold and didn´t become old. „What do you do with your golden rat?“ Asked an other cat. „I store it in my flat, be glad!“ — „I will“ said the other cat. „And now I feed my hedgehog, as large as a dog.“ „I thought that I´m as large as a dog, your other cat...“ „Maybe you are, I don´t know, I have no default dog...“ „But you have your hedgehog eating from your mug — give it a hug!“ „You may be mad, you other cat. Leave my flat, my rat is sad!“ And if it were an elephant. Eating nuts with a purple hand. -hf

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