Today I dreamed that when the cashier asked me if I wanted Mercadona paying bags, said Mary Che Choni three times and began to foam at the mouth.
However, as when the seizure ended had not yet managed to open the bag bitch, I had to pay and ask that opened me with those hands full of gold and Uñate exaggerated. After leaving the grocery store and bag (which has a quality shit, not even as the Day) was broken, so the caldeau of garlic and olives splashed me quedándoseme imbued with a strong smell of vinegar that I have not broken until awakening.
Neguémonos pay for bags, we're doing the jerk and buying things that will go directly to the trash I feel like that teenager whose unused condoms were the same fate.
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