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A message from the REAL Brothabill, not the impostors

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go invent something and stop wasting your talent on this fucking forum
 
He mentioned me, why the hell did he mention me
 
hello my friend. we meet again. the last time was in sri lanka I believe. Yes, in the smoke filled opium den behind Tavern Blue.

I remember you had a white linen shirt and I said I knew a man who could make those for just a few dollars. You said you knew of a woman who could kill that man, steel his linen, and hire the poor migrant workers to make the shirts for less.

I said, "then you've already heard of me."
"Stilleto," you said, blowing thin streams of opium from between your pursed lips.
"Brothabill."

You held out your tan hand and lifted me up from the floor. Clouds of dust and street grime billowed around my sandals as I tried to smooth my skirt.
"Don't bother," you said, pulling me out the door. "you're only going to take it off later."
 
swole said:
go invent something and stop wasting your talent on this fucking forum

First off, Hey Chewy! Hope all is good.

And Swole my man, "idle hands are the devil's playground"
Although I dont have to invent something to patent it, I am researching patenting some cardiovascular molecules in a blend but to boost the heart.

Read here: Just one additive of the proprietary blend
http://www.nutritionhorizon.com/newsmaker_article.asp?idNewsMaker=13550&fSite=AO545&next=0

Being privy to the latest research, lots of opportunities, although the extraction process is patented by Mars despite the research...
I have found a way around it.

Smurfy... grr, you are being nice, killing me softly with your song, I got nowheres to go.

MM, who loves ya baby?

Stilleto, my man in Afghanistan, I will keep your cover secret.

Lestat, good bro, I cant believe I admit that
 
This is the kind of prose I miss!

stilleto said:
hello my friend. we meet again. the last time was in sri lanka I believe. Yes, in the smoke filled opium den behind Tavern Blue.

I remember you had a white linen shirt and I said I knew a man who could make those for just a few dollars. You said you knew of a woman who could kill that man, steel his linen, and hire the poor migrant workers to make the shirts for less.

I said, "then you've already heard of me."
"Stilleto," you said, blowing thin streams of opium from between your pursed lips.
"Brothabill."

You held out your tan hand and lifted me up from the floor. Clouds of dust and street grime billowed around my sandals as I tried to smooth my skirt.
"Don't bother," you said, pulling me out the door. "you're only going to take it off later."
 
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