February 2010

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Carmax Sales Consultantpay

Spin-off - The White House

The house was white and elegant, European style, surrounded by well kept gardens, full of tropical plants. He was a damnable inconsistency. It was despicable, he thought Elias was furious.
Then he shook his head. The villa itself was not anything wrong, per se. It was similar to many other villas of the rich part of town, built by the owners and captains of industry land, sometimes even before that Brazil became independent.
those who send him out of the mad was that his prey could afford to live there with his new identity as a respectable industrial metal sector. He had money to suck, a collection of art objects and a respectable place in society, good old Welf. He had done things right, the dirty bastard. It had taken him years to find him, years in which that individual had been able to enjoy his wealth of wickedness, without fear and without shame. But things were about to change, justice was almost upon him. Sooner or later it always came. At
Elias had thought of having all the time in the world to find them one by one, but he realized that his main opponent, rather than its victims, who also sometimes gave him a hard time, it was the same time. He had never forgiven for having missed a prey, Maj. Dietrich Habermas, due to a stroke. He was dead in his bed, surrounded by a loving family and, hopefully, unconscious. Even the dregs of humanity growing old.
Elias turned to his companions improvised venture, a band of robbers which specializes in attacks on houses in uptown. They were real professionals in the field, with several robberies and an asset for more than blacks or mulattos were all coming from one of the gangs that controlled the slums perched on top of hills on the outskirts of the city.
As would be fun to watch as Kraut of shit that you found their home ransacked by the "nigger" ... Knowing that their money would end up in the slums would be the icing on the cake of the evening.
He nodded to the leader of the gang, Divo, a mulatto of a six feet, dressed in counterfeit sportswear, but armed with a rifle the U.S. Army well oiled and running. The thief smiled.
"Come on," Elias whispered, putting a gun in his Tokarev TT.

Juninho, the youngest member of the band Il Divo, he had a bad feeling about the shot. She had had since from the time when the Polish had submitted to their hideout on the favela. The Polish had not liked it at first sight, indeed he had made a shiver down my spine unpleasant. He looked ill, with sunken eyes dark and too bright, as if he always wore a fever, was too pale, even for a white man, and was dressed all in black, as a jinx. And then he was not normal that one came out of nowhere to offer a shot, carefully planned. He had already collected the information, watched the house, surveyed the escape routes, had already done all by myself, in fact.
One day he arrived in the favela alone after dark, armed only with an old Soviet gun, and asked to speak with Il Divo. "I have a job really easy to offer." Polacco said, calmly, and a strong Eastern European accent. He spoke as one of the villains in the films of Russian 007. According
Juninho, the work was too easy and, as was young, newly promoted from patrol to true soldier of the gang, the boy had already realized that nothing was never so easy.
was not normal, dammit! What kind of ulterior motive was that guy? Maybe it was a military police officer in disguise. What good could not be.
Juninho had tried to communicate his doubts to Divo, but he was limited to laugh in his face. "Had the devil, if we are really in there that says all the money, it would follow the same. "she had said.
Juninho in any case it was in possession. In his pocket was the card of Santo Expedito and Nossa Senhora Aparecida , which would protect him from danger, and for good measure had asked an mae de santo a blessing for him to defend it from Eguna , the restless spirits of the dead. And, according to Juninho, the Polish had a Eguna or at least was followed by a band of these spectra. The boy could hardly see them and warned them, however, as a cold in my bones every time you come too close to the Polish. There was a strong negative energy around this man. The boy considered well spent the money he had given to mae de santo to buy a goat and a whole lot 'of cachaça to offer Orixas to ensure his protection.
Climbing a tree along the perimeter of the property with a gun thrown in the back of the pants, the boy thought that he would need.

Divo imagined that the chicken, the owner of the house was filthy rich, but did not imagine at this point. There was old and expensive stuff everywhere. Ornaments and trinkets were proudly displayed in elegant glass cases, there were stylish paintings on the walls. He looked like a damned museum more than the house of an old German full of grain. "All good stuff, if you know how to place" Polacco said softly, flashing a smirk. For a moment Divo was uncomfortable under the gaze of feverish Polish, but then he thought the amount of grain that could mop up with this shot. Enough to have a good time for a while 'everyone and also to buy a lot' of weapons for the defense of the hill: AK-47 and AR-15, which was the best on the market of contraband weapons, projectiles and High speeds also opened the vests of the police bullets as if they were paper.
Divo and nodded to Dentinho Lobisomem, which broke through the glass cases and began to put the stuff in the bags in bulk.
careful not to break anything, heads f ** o! " warned them their heads, suddenly, but softly. The boys laughed like idiots, and probably made too excited by the prospect of money to look after the details.
Juninho seemed rather worried. He was on the sidelines at the door with a shotgun in his hand and watched the servants, bound and gagged in the kitchen, as she looked around nervously. "What is it, kid?" Asked Divo.
"Polish." Replied the boy.
"What's wrong with the Polish, Juninho, dammit?" Divo had had enough of all it seems that the boy was about their socio improvised.
is gone. Up the stairs. "Juninho said.
Divo swore. On the floor above was the master of the house, in bed filled with tranquilizers, according to what he said the Polish. They agreed that the plan would not be touched. He motioned to
Dentinho Lobisomem and to stay tuned and ran up the stairs.

The landlord was sleeping when a drugged sleep Elias entered the master bedroom. Dressed in a silk pajamas, Welf snoring quietly. He had aged well over the past forty years, the accursed.
Elias felt the anger was mounting. That damned old had lived in luxury all the time with money stolen from the dead.
gun in his hand, yanked the old Elias and slapped him hard. Welf awoke with a start Elias and stared at the face of his watery gray-blue eyes.
Elias smiled. Ben woke up, Mr Mathias Durrenmatt, or should I say the third division captain Welf Stradonitz SS? "Greeted him in perfect German, pointing the gun in the middle of the old occhi.Il jumped back, eyes wide open. "How ... How do you know? "He whispered, the fear evident in his voice.
"Secret ..." murmured Elias, who was enjoying the moment immensely.
The old man began to whimper. "I ... I'll give you anything you want. I have a lot of money, you know." He spoke in a rush and trembling , white as the sheets of fine fabric of his bed.
"We did very brave you Aryan." Mocked him Elias. He did not know what to think: some of the terror he felt that the old man was a fair tradeoff for the despair that had inflicted a lot of poor people forty years before, but was partly disappointed. He expected at least a bit 'to fight by a man, not even of an individual (call him a man would be an insult to the rest of mankind) formerly known for its ferocity.
"Please I'll give you what you want, but I do not ruin the reputation ... I was young and was following the orders of my superiors ... I did not understand ... "he complained. Elias was disgusted. The hand that held the gun down very little, but that little was enough to feed the hope of the old.
His voice gained a little 'security, in renewing his offer. "Imagine, you could become rich. Just ask and I'll give you whatever you want. ... Whatever" he promised.
Elias's face was painted a grimace of anger. <"Non mi importa un fico secco della tua reputazione e non hai niente che io voglia, verme.” sibilò, riportando la pistola sul bersaglio.

Divo irruppe nella stanza padronale giusto in tempo per vedere il suo più nuovo socio che puntava la sua grossa pistola in faccia al padrone di casa. Aveva un'espressione da pazzo o da strafatto di cocaina e sembrava fare sul serio.
"Ehi, Polacco, che ca**o stai facendo?” gli gridò, puntando a sua volta il fucile sul socio. Divo non aveva problemi a sparare nelle guerre tra bande e addosso alla polizia, ma ammazzare un vecchio indifeso a sangue freddo nel suo letto era un po' troppo. Troppa pubblicità negativa, troppa attenzione mediatica, molto male per il traffico.
"Fatti gli affari tuoi, Divo. - ringhiò il Polacco, senza spostare di un millimetro la pistola, stretta saldamente in una mano dalle dita nodose e deformate – Prenditi tutta la roba e sparisci. Anche la mia parte. Facci quello che vuoi.”
"Juninho aveva ragione, maledizione! - imprecò Divo, col fucile sempre spianato – Chi accidenti sei? Sei della polizia?”
Il Polacco gli scoccò un'occhiata divertita. “Della polizia? No, accidenti, sono del KGB!” ridacchiò.
Divo rimase momentaneamente di stucco, incapace di decidere se il Polacco lo stesse prendendo per i fondelli o meno. Quell'uomo sembrava totalmente fuori di melone.
"Anche se fosse? Che accidenti ti ha fatto quel tizio, fratello? Lascialo perdere, è solo un vecchio.” insistette Divo, gesticolando con in mano il fucile.

Only an old ...
How old were killed unarmed because of the senseless cruelty of people like Welf Stradonitz? No one had taken pity on them, even though they were "only the old, indeed precisely because they were old, useless and unable to work, were the first to die.
Elias closed eyes for a moment and dropped the gun again, falling even lower than before.
Behind the display of closed eyes, Elias saw the dead piled in heaps in mass graves, and the survivors malnourished, dirty and desperate. Justice, called for all .
Elias opened his eyes.
"You're right, Divo. It's just an old man." She said quietly, turning to him.
The bandit nodded, lowering the rifle move slow.
Former SS Captain heaved a deep sigh of sollievo.Elias raised again the gun, looked at the old eyes and pulled the trigger.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Signs Of Chlamydia In Mouth

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