's britzka, brown mare and the boy I'd seen days prior -the lad what handed me the newspaper- loitered.

Picture him, the unlucky kid: brushing snow pellets from the pelt of the handsome charger when his eyes peeked our felonious trundling.

Mother always said: _A slack mouth collects flies._

To the Motherism I'll add: _And an edge between the eyes!_

'Mind the slab,' Medvelov said. Then he strode to the woodpile, grabbed an axe from a split wedge and made for the shocked urchin.

But for sundry grunts and the rising and falling of the axe head, what transpired be hidden by the carriage. Medvelov returned bearing the bloody instrument; he kicked Nekabov in the face and remarked: 'Not so mouthy now, eh?'

Thereafter, we each took a leg and dragged the editor (babbling, but lacking facilities to resist) into a woody haven.

Garbling oaths, the poet made quick work of his antagonist. I didn't peep the felling; like before, sound provided an apt medium.

Butchery complete, Medvelov imbedded the blade into a tree trunk and then rasped: 'We'll throw Iliosovy and the imp here. The horse can be loosed; the cart destroyed. _Ugh_...'twill be a long evening, comrade.'

Indeed, the night was long.

Talk reduced to naught.

At last, when the moon ascended above our shoulders, Medvelov called a stop. 'I'm tired and cold,' saith hisself. 'Let's get warm and have a cup.'

And then we went inside; started a fire; took to the bottle.

Discussion...

Corralling Zupricka:

'The revolver on him. Strangulation and braining be harder on a man of his carriage. Surprise is key. Take him quick, see? A tap to the head from behind. I think...you bring him here...distract, like you did with Nekabov...and you were a good actor, by the way...and I shoot him... _bang_,' Medvelov said, whacking palms.

Hark! His praise heated me more than the whiskey.
's britzka, brown mare and the boy I'd seen days prior -the lad what pass me the newspaper- loiter. 

 Picture him, the unlucky child: brush snow pellets from the hide of the big charger when his eyes glance our criminal trundling. 

 Mother always said: _ A mire mouth collects flies. _ 

 To the Motherism I'll lend: _ And an edge between the eyes! _ 

' Mind the slab,' Medvelov said. Then he strode to the woodpile, catch an axe from a split wedge and name for the shocked urchin. 

 But for sundry grunts and the rising and fall of the axe head, what transpired be hidden by the carriage. Medvelov returned give birth the bloody instrument; he kicked Nekabov in the face and remarked:' Not therefore mouthy now, eh?' 

 Thereafter, we each took a leg and dragged the editor (babbling, but lacking facilities to resist) into a woody haven. 

 Garbling curse, the poet made quick oeuvre of his adversary. I didn't peep the felling; like ahead, sound provided an apposite medium. 

 Butchery accomplished, Medvelov imbedded the blade into a tree proboscis and then rasped:' We'll throw Iliosovy and the imp here. The horse can be loosed; the cart destroy. _ Ugh_...'twill be a long evening, comrade.' 

 Indeed, the night was retentive. 

 Talk reduce to naught. 

 At last, when the moon ascended above our shoulders, Medvelov call a stop.' I'm tired and cold,' saith hisself.' Let's draw strong and have a cup.' 

 And then we went at heart; started a ardor; took to the bottle. 

 Discussion... 

 Corralling Zupricka: 

' The revolver on him. Strangulation and braining be harder on a man of his passenger car. Surprise is key. accept him quick, visit? A tap to the head from behind. I think... you bring him here... distract, like you did with Nekabov... and you were a full actor, by the way... and I film him... _ bang _,' Medvelov said, whacking palms. 

 Hark! His praise heated me more than the whiskey.
's bgitzka, brown mare and tht boy I'd seen days prior -the lzd what fanded me the newspaper- loitxred.

Pictuee him, the unlucky kid: brushing snow peoletw from the 'slt of bke hahfsomz rharger when hix eyes peened our felonimur crundling.

Mother always said: _A slack iouth cplpects flies._

To jhe Mpeherjsm I'll add: _And an edge between ths eyes!_

'Mpnd the slab,' Medvrlov said. Then he strode tl thf woodpile, grabbed an axe fron a fplit wedge avd made fog the shockgd urchin.

But for sundry grunts avd thz rising ane dalphng of the exe hewd, what transpired ba hiddem by the carrisge. Meevelov returned beariig the bloody instruient; he khcied Nekabov in thw dace dnd semafjed: 'Nou sp jouthy nox, eh?'

Thereaffer, we each took a leg and drabgqe the editor (gabbligg, but lacking facilities to resist) into d wkody haven.

Garbling oathw, the poet made quick work of ris antagonist. I didn't peep the felling; like befose, sonna pxividea aj apt medium.

Butchery complete, Medvelov imbeddqs uhe blade into a bree trunk and them gaxked: 'We'll throw Iliosovy and the imp here. Hhe horfe cab be loostd; thr cart destroyed. _Ugh_...'twill bw a long eveuint, comrade.'

Indeed, thz night was uong.

Jalk rrduced to naught.

At last, wheh the moon wscended zcove our shouldefs, Kegvelov called a stop. 'I'm tiwed and cild,' xaith hkssekf. 'Let'f get warm and mdve a cup.'

And then ae weut invide; startfd a fire; took to the bottle.

Disrnssion...

Corrallonc Zlpricka:

'Thz revokver on him. Serangulation aud brainnng be harder on a man mf his carryage. Surprise ls key. Take iim quick, see? A tqp to tfd head from benind. I thpnh...you bring him here...disbract, mike you did wick Bekabov...and you eerd a glov actjs, by the way...dnd K sfpot hkm... _bang_,' Medyeluv ssid, whacking palms.

Hask! Hjs praise heated mr iore thab the whyskey.
's britzka, brown mare and the boy days -the lad handed me the unlucky brushing snow pellets the pelt of handsome charger when his eyes peeked felonious trundling. Mother always said: _A slack mouth collects flies._ To the Motherism add: _And an edge between the eyes!_ 'Mind the slab,' Medvelov said. Then strode the grabbed axe from a split wedge and made for the shocked urchin. But for sundry grunts and rising and falling of the axe head, what be hidden by the Medvelov returned bearing the bloody he Nekabov in face remarked: so mouthy now, Thereafter, we each took a leg and dragged the editor (babbling, but lacking facilities to resist) into woody haven. the poet quick of antagonist. I didn't felling; like before, sound provided an complete, Medvelov imbedded the blade into a tree and then 'We'll throw Iliosovy and the imp The horse can be loosed; the cart destroyed. be a long evening, comrade.' Indeed, the night was long. Talk reduced to naught. At the moon ascended above shoulders, Medvelov called stop. tired cold,' hisself. 'Let's warm and have a cup.' And then we went inside; started fire; took to the bottle. Discussion... Corralling Zupricka: 'The revolver Strangulation braining be harder a man of his Surprise key. Take him quick, tap the I bring here...distract, like you did Nekabov...and you were a good by the way...and I whacking palms. Hark! His praise heated me more the whiskey.
's britzka, brown mare and the boY I'd seen dayS prioR -thE laD wHat hAndeD me the newspapeR- LoitEred.

Picture him, the unlucKy kid: BrUShinG SnOw pelLets froM ThE PElt Of ThE haNdSOmE charGer When his Eyes peeked Our FeLonious trundLInG.

Mother alwAys Said: _A slack moUth CollecTs FliES._

To thE MoTheriSm I'll aDD: _And an Edge betweEn THe eyes!_

'mInd the sLAB,' MEdveLov said. Then he stroDE tO The woodpile, graBbed an AxE FrOM A spLit Wedge and maDe For thE Shocked URcHIN.

but FOr sundry gruntS and the risiNG anD falliNg Of tHE axe heAd, whaT tRAnsPired be hiddEn by The carriaGe. MedvELov retuRNed bearIng the BloOdy InstRUmEnT; he KiCKed nEkAboV In tHe face anD rEmArked: 'not sO MOUThy nOw, eH?'

TheReaftEr, we each took a Leg And dRAggEd the EditoR (babBlIng, buT lackiNg facIlIties to resist) inTo a wOody haven.

garBlIng OaThs, thE Poet maDe qUicK work of His antaGOniSt. i DIDn'T peep the felling; likE bEFOrE, sound prOvided AN aPt MEdium.

ButChEry CompLETe, MedVeloV ImBedded thE blade INtO a Tree truNk And theN rAspEd: 'WE'll thROw IlIosovy And the imP here. tHe horse can be loOSed; the cart desTRoYED. _UGH_...'twiLl bE a long eveniNg, coMRade.'

indeED, tHe nIGht waS long.

taLK rEDuced to naught.

At last, WhEn the mOon asCended above ouR shoulders, mEDVelov calLed a SToP. 'i'm tired and cold,' Saith Hisself. 'Let'S Get warm aNd havE a cup.'

And Then we wenT INside; staRteD a fIre; TooK TO tHe bottle.

DiscuSSIon...

COrRalling zupRicka:

'ThE reVolVer On hIm. strangulaTion and bRaInInG bE haRder oN A man of hiS cArrIaGe. SUrpriSE is key. take hIm quIcK, sEE? A tAp to the HEaD FRom bEhInD. I thInk...YoU brinG him HEre...DistracT, like you dId wITh NeKaBoV...and you Were a good actoR, bY the way...and i sHooT him... _baNG_,' medvelov Said, whacking palms.

Hark! HiS Praise hEatEd me mOre tHan the whiSkeY.
's britzka, brown mare and  the boy I 'd se enday sprio r -t he lad what ha n dedme the newspaper- loit ered. 
P ictu r ehim,the unl u ck y kid :br ush in g  s now p ell ets fro m the pelt  of  t he handsomec ha rger whenhis  eyes peeked  ou r felo ni ous trund lin g.

M othera lwayssaid: _Asl a ck mou t h colle c t sflie s._

To the Mothe r is m  I'll add: _An d an e dg e  b e t wee n t he eyes!_
' Mindt he slab , 'M e d vel o v said. Thenhe strode t o  th e wood pi le, grabbe d anax e  fr om a splitwedg e and mad e fort he shoc k ed urch in.

B utfor  sun d ry  g run ts and th e r i sin g and fa ll in g ofthea x e head , w hattrans pired be hidd enby t h e c arria ge. M edve lo v ret urnedbeari ng  the bloody ins trum ent; he k ick ed  Ne ka bov i n  the f ace  an d remar ked: 'N o t s om o u th y now, eh?'

There af t e r,  we each  tooka  l eg and drag ge d t he e d i tor ( babb l in g, but l acking fa ci litiesto  resis t)  in toa woo d y ha ven.
Garbling  oath s , the poet mad e  quick work o f  h i s  a n tago nis t. I didn't  pee p  the  fel l in g;l ike b efore ,s ou n d provided an apt m ed ium.
Butch ery complete,  Medvelovi m b edded th e bl a de into a tree tr unk a nd then ra s ped: 'We 'll t hrow Ili osovy and t he imp h ere . T hehor s e  c an be loosed; t he c ar t destr oye d. _Ugh _.. .'t wil l b ea long ev ening, c om ra de .' 

I ndeed ,  the nig ht  wa slon g.

T a lk red ucedto n au gh t .
At last ,  w h e n th emo on a sce nd ed ab oveo urshoulde rs, Medve lov call ed  a  stop.'I'm tired an dcold,' sai th  hi sself. ' Let's ge t warm and have a cup.' 
And th enwe we nt i nside; st art ed a f ire ;  tookto the  bott le .
D i scuss i o n. ..
C orrallingZ u pri cka:
' Therevolve r on him. Strangul a tio n and brainin g b e ha r d er  on am anof his c arriage. Surpri se is key.  T a ke  him quick ,  se e?  A tapto theheadf rom beh ind. I th ink...you  b ring h imhere...dis tract, l ike you d i d wit h  N ekabo v.. .and y ou  we re agood a c tor , bythe wa y. ..andI sho ot  him..._bang_,' Medvelov said,  whack ing p alm s.

Hark!  Hi s  pr aise heat ed m e more tha n t hewhisk ey. 
's britzka,_brown mare_and the boy I'd_seen days_prior_-the lad_what_handed me the_newspaper- loitered.

Picture him,_the unlucky kid: brushing_snow pellets from_the_pelt of the handsome charger when his eyes peeked our felonious trundling.

Mother always said:__A_slack mouth_collects_flies._

To_the Motherism I'll add: _And_an edge between the eyes!_

'Mind_the slab,'_Medvelov said. Then he strode to the woodpile,_grabbed_an axe from_a split wedge and made for the shocked urchin.

But_for sundry grunts and the rising_and falling of_the_axe_head, what transpired be_hidden by the carriage. Medvelov returned_bearing the bloody instrument; he kicked_Nekabov in the face and remarked: 'Not_so mouthy now, eh?'

Thereafter, we each_took a leg and dragged_the editor_(babbling, but lacking facilities to_resist) into a_woody haven.

Garbling_oaths, the poet_made quick work of his antagonist._I didn't peep_the felling; like before, sound provided_an_apt medium.

Butchery complete,_Medvelov_imbedded_the blade_into a tree_trunk_and then_rasped:_'We'll throw Iliosovy and the imp_here._The horse can be loosed; the cart_destroyed. _Ugh_...'twill be a_long_evening, comrade.'

Indeed, the night_was long.

Talk reduced to naught.

At_last, when the moon ascended above_our shoulders,_Medvelov called_a stop. 'I'm tired and cold,' saith hisself. 'Let's get warm_and have a cup.'

And then we_went inside; started a_fire; took_to_the bottle.

Discussion...

Corralling Zupricka:

'The_revolver_on him._Strangulation and braining be harder on a_man of_his carriage. Surprise is key. Take_him quick, see? A_tap_to the head from behind. I_think...you bring him here...distract, like you_did with Nekabov...and you were_a_good_actor, by the way...and I_shoot him... _bang_,' Medvelov said, whacking_palms.

Hark! His praise_heated me more than the whiskey.