Jar Of Dirt Novels & Stories

that's a red flag - he might like kids. LonelyGirl: 😂😂😂 you are bad. LimberJack: very. now back to the original question princess. LonelyGirl: I reread our chat...often. LimberJack: and... LonelyGirl: I had to throw away my panties. LimberJack: why? 😉 LonelyGirl: you're evil. it turned me on so much that I soaked them. 💦 💦 💦 LimberJack: now there's my naughty girl. that's so hot. so you worked camando. 🥵

My tears fell, and I was only able to bite my lips. "You know, Miss, the jar costs $500,000. You can't even buy it with your pride." This unlucky jerk taunted me made me want to take the broken jar and scratch his skin. Damn it! "I'm sorry." "It's not that easy! Did you ask for a $1000 change? And let's make a calculation, you have to change the expensive jar to $500,000. You know that antique jar bought in China dates back to the Ming dynasty." My body immediately shook, feeling like a local earthquake. Failed to eat well, a lot of debt and what now?

said Mira. Eldion shrugged his shoulders and returned the ceramic jar where he took it. Mira observed Eldion as he put back inside the hidden compartment what in her eyes looked like a dull clay jar devoid of decorations.

A stain smeared across the fabric of their souls that I somehow could pick up with ease. “What kind of shithole is this?” I drawled, smacking my dry lips. There was most definitely dirt in my mouth. Moldy boxes were strewn about, coated in a thick layer of dust that told me this place hadn’t seen any sort of action in a long time. There was a rusted bike in the corner, propped up against a rocking chair that easily looked like it could be a couple decades old. Directly to Jeremy’s left was a set of stairs that led to a door.

Even the wolfish gleam in his green eyes faded for a moment. I seized my chance, sweeping the room with a quick glance. There—in the corner! Half-buried in trash lay a big old clay jar, its lid weighed down with a slab of rock and a sheet of filthy plastic. From underneath drifted a faint tang. It was sharp, sour, and unmistakable! Pickled cabbage! Oh, sweet heavens, pickled cabbage! I heaved the rock off and tore the cover back. A rich, tangy scent burst out, chasing away the stink of rot.

She scowled at Darryl. Darryl had no right to boss a dignified Heaven Union Sect Master. "If you want a Vigor Pill, just do as I said!" Darryl said curtly as he stood up and stretched his waist. Uh… Sonya stomped her feet angrily, but when she noticed how serious Darryl looked, she suppressed her anger and went to fetch a porcelain jar. F*ck! Darryl took the porcelain jar and glanced at it casually. He was shocked to see the beautiful shape of the jar; its glaze and lines were also simply gorgeous. At first glance, he knew it was a valuable antique.

1 I stepped over a dead potted plant on my welcome mat, half-expecting it to groan at me for neglect. My key jammed in the lock again, same as always. Everything in this building stuck. Doors, plumbing, anything you can thinking of. I walked up to the third floor where I stayed. I had only one roommate, which was myself. A box was by my doorstep when I looked down. Plain, no postage, just a small, perfectly square gist box with a red ribbon that strangely reminded of an horror movie. There was a single card looped in delicate twine. All it said was “she will keep you company”.

"He has a job to do, he needs to get the fuck back to work instead of having tea parties with Lola and her dolls. If anyone should be having tea, it's me." Jenna snapped her fingers and pointed at the swear jar on the counter, giving him a pointed look. He was the one to set it up, so he could darn well fill it with coins if he was going to have such a potty mouth. He grumbled under his breath, reached into his pocket, pulled a handful of coins out and dropped them into the jar. After only two weeks it was nearly full. Jenna was starting to suspect he actually intended to pay for Lola's college tuition this way. Jared and Vince, along with some of the security guys who occasionally came into

I felt like a criminal as I started to dig into the soft dirt, because if I was wrong I was just desecrating a friend's grave, but if I was right it meant everything we believed was a lie. The sun was beating down on my back and I was sweating through my shirt by the time the shovel finally hit something hard, so I dropped to my knees and brushed away the loose soil with my hands. I reached the lid of the wooden casket and pried it open with the edge of the shovel, but I didn't find any bones or a rotting dress like I expected to. Instead, the box was filled with heavy rocks and a few pieces of scrap metal to give it weight, and tucked in the corner was a small glass jar that was glowing wit

Try eight loads in my womb, three in Jada’s ass, and a promise of more every time the folks look away—plus the trucker’s number scrawled on a napkin in Zion’s pocket. I’m wrecked, dripping, owned—and I wouldn’t trade a single filthy, public drop.