The British soldier when interviewed during the Blitz in 1940 said it would have been unsporting to shoot (to be fair he couldnt have known Hitler would go on and do everything) so he paused and waved Hitler on with hia rifle. Thus a young Adolf Hitler safely ran back to German lines and the British soldier kept kicking butt that day. (Really look him up hes a serious bada$$) On Xmas day 42German radio had sdiers from all over far flung German outposts report in and wish the homeland a Merry Xmas! Shocked starving soldiers in Stalingrad were dumbstruck to hear a healthy group “report in from Stalingrad on the banks of the FK With Claws Horror Ornament and bravely wish Germany Merry Xmas”. There was no radio report from Stalingrad. All the soldiers in the Stalingrad pocket were given a chance to write goodbye letters. In a utterly cruel and cynical move the High Command collected and destroyed the letters. It never gave them to the families.
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She was… disappointed to say the least. She has never liked cats as long as I can remember. When I was much younger we had found a little of FK With Claws Horror Ornament in a cousin’s barn and my mother flat out refused to allow us to keep one, though she did admit that they were cute. Anyway, after years of hearing me say the same thing around Christmas time, “Nothing,” she decided that if I was going to ask for something she was going to give it to me. She took me out to a vet’s office and showed me little Lois. Lois has been dropped off by someone for a medical procedure and the person had never returned for her. The vet explained this was common when someone wanted an animal to be in good health but really couldn’t afford the bill. I was appalled that someone could just abandon such a sweet little animal and that was the day we adopted our first cat. None of my family members really liked her that much, they were all dog people after all, but she didn’t seem to mind. She would keep to herself, hiding in closets and basements and coming out to play with me when she got lonely. At 18, I decided to move out and she came along with me.
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When I got to the house after about a 5 minute ride he let me out. Wow! I wasn’t going to get killed after all. I started to explore – but then I met a nightmare of an experience. Now I knew that smell on the blankets that kept coming back. It was another cat, someone called Velvet. She cornered me in the basement and threw 9 successive paws at me. I didn’t like that as an introduction. That was not a FK With Claws Horror Ornament. The guy separated us and in time I learned I could count on him for help. That black cat – he called it Velvet – just wouldn’t give me a break. For 11 months she kept picking fights and throwing her clawed paws at my face. She made me learn all 5,082 of her household rules, all complete with full sections and sub-sections. I guess I must have done okay, though, as one day we got a new extra litter box and by the 11th month Velvet figured I now had a clue about how to behave.