work written by one of my cul-ti. I will spare you the mistakes.
My boss, Prof. cursed
My boss's name was Mr. Prof. Cursed. It was too bad, because he hated and still hate the sixth graders.
When we slept on large mattresses instead of weaving, we whipped thirteen times each before we insult and spit on us. Then he would lodge where the old lady to steal her precious hot dishes before we break it on the head with a frankly frightening pace. And when he had time, and it was possible, we just mark with a branding iron. We were like slaves.
But now, nice personnel boss was sacked. We were all very happy. Then, as he saved a run, we took our revenge by torturing. This means that we have whipped him that we have broken the dishes on their heads and we have marked several times with a hot iron.
PS Do not worry. He is not dead! It is simply disabled and in an asylum.
No, but! Is not it another great show love it? You can almost believe that he drew on my teaching methods!
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