17. This morning Jukin became rich.
He got up early, which was already a good thing. And soon, the desire to write his autobiography came the tease. The first time he had before going to bed. Now he got up, motivated by the idea of sharing her life. However, the effort required to fill a big book discouraged. He needed the return of the public in the early chapters. That's when the first lightning struck his destiny. In a flash, Jukin realized he had to publish his autobiography blog. Still in shorts, he came out and plugged in his computer but functionally obsolete. He still paid Internet subscription!
Soon he published the first article of his life. He was enthusiastic and refreshed the page every minute to see if there were comments. An hour later he would leave when he first discovered: "I arive by Hazar, ms c too bad your thing. lol :-). Depression buried him immediately. He took a bunch of blankets and climbed the stairs to the attic. Above, he wrapped himself in a ball and let slide down. At the bottom of the stairs, he bounces against a small dresser fell over. He left a good 20 minutes in disposing of his refuge cotton and pain.
Half suffocated, he came out and discovered the contents of the drawers spilled onto the ground. He immediately fixed his eyes on a long bright red box. It contained a pencil that had been impregnated his brain. It was no longer the sole possessor of his inner thoughts. Jukin had deliberately trapped there because he was afraid he could write with. Then came the second flash: he would write a blog with a pencil. As a way to exorcise her fear by taking revenge on the poor reception of his blog. It was painful then retype everything, but he felt that extra stuff and just integrate its particular narrative.
He also took advantage of the pencil to add artwork that is scanned, then this new article published. After a pause he munched a pear, it refreshes its reflex Page: 120 comments. He thought immediately of a mistake. He checked several times, there was no error. And this time, no mockery, the comments were enthusiastic. Under the incentive value, he wrote a second book with a second drawing and published them. The reaction was immediate, it passed the 2000 comments. In the aftermath he accepted a contract as t-shirts are edited. It affected only a euro per copy sold, but was very proud. We then rang at his door. Working as a wholesaler computer fan offered him a high-tech equipment brand new. To which a graphics recognition character, allowing him to use his pencil without retyping the text or scan the drawing. The driver identified him and asked him for an autograph in babbling.
Once rid of formalities, Jukin closed the door, all happy. He published his third article. Immediately, his bell reasonable. He opened it to find a television crew who told him he had become the richest inhabitant of the city. 2.3 million T-shirts had already been sold! They wanted to do a story on him. Surprised at the number of attendees for this, he explained the success of his blog and the "buzz. All the writing was moved, the guard at the Producer, to meet the phenomenon. During that installation and that the make-up, he saw the hundred people who strolled home. They began to dig, some were taking pictures of objects with him.
When the interview began, would have been in a cathedral silence of thousands of eyes flickered to Jukin. He began to explain how things happened. The crowd reacts positively when he brought up the discovery of his first comment. They booed by heart the internet anonymously and began to come alive. They applauded his downfall the stairs and cried when he told his first release due in pencil. They jumped frantically to wear their t-shirts as he spoke of the contract. They were warm and gesticulating everywhere. The elbow of a man shoved a table against the wall. The frame and the glass broke ground. Nobody paid any attention and they trampled the glass, their feet bleeding. Jukin had seen everything but could not say anything. The interview then ended. 3 beautiful girls, two brunettes and a blonde headed toward him amid the general crowd. Improvising a party at his house.
Girls complimented by approaching more and more. He felt their perfumes fresh and exciting. The first was the blonde to kneel. She unbuttoned his pants when the other two knelt in turn. Jukin recoiled. They threw themselves on her lower belly, tongue out. It was rejected, and rejected them again suddenly recoiled. His back hit his Viming. Pottery extremely dear to her heart slipped from its mount and exploded on the ground. Jukin yelled suddenly. On tearing vocal froze everyone. The 2nd howl, clearly directed towards the crowd, dissuaded even the most enthusiastic to stay. In an instant he found himself alone in front of the remains of the table, and monitor its Viming forgotten by the team. The show
freshly ironed registered there. He discovered in the screen, the greedy eyes of the 3 girls behind him. Its cathodic him he seemed so trivial that he felt relief suddenly. He mentally relives his hole in the ground. He was so full of prospects colored, translucent geometric shapes that he alone understood. The monitor that was flashing before him now spreading the snow was so empty in comparison. This
life he had not chosen. It was imposed by others. So it did not suit him, he does not please them. He took his pencil carefully slipped into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled on a cap. He got out and walked in the city, avoiding the possible fans who recognized him. Finally, he found what he wanted: a serious man with 3 piece suit, closed face, hair and chin ambitious. Then he offered this life, through the pen, the man who dreamed less fortunate. He advised him to move to get a box of latex gloves. After a happy, Jukin returned to his life, one that did not make waves, those that did not notice, that for which he died.
Half suffocated, he came out and discovered the contents of the drawers spilled onto the ground. He immediately fixed his eyes on a long bright red box. It contained a pencil that had been impregnated his brain. It was no longer the sole possessor of his inner thoughts. Jukin had deliberately trapped there because he was afraid he could write with. Then came the second flash: he would write a blog with a pencil. As a way to exorcise her fear by taking revenge on the poor reception of his blog. It was painful then retype everything, but he felt that extra stuff and just integrate its particular narrative.
He also took advantage of the pencil to add artwork that is scanned, then this new article published. After a pause he munched a pear, it refreshes its reflex Page: 120 comments. He thought immediately of a mistake. He checked several times, there was no error. And this time, no mockery, the comments were enthusiastic. Under the incentive value, he wrote a second book with a second drawing and published them. The reaction was immediate, it passed the 2000 comments. In the aftermath he accepted a contract as t-shirts are edited. It affected only a euro per copy sold, but was very proud. We then rang at his door. Working as a wholesaler computer fan offered him a high-tech equipment brand new. To which a graphics recognition character, allowing him to use his pencil without retyping the text or scan the drawing. The driver identified him and asked him for an autograph in babbling.
Once rid of formalities, Jukin closed the door, all happy. He published his third article. Immediately, his bell reasonable. He opened it to find a television crew who told him he had become the richest inhabitant of the city. 2.3 million T-shirts had already been sold! They wanted to do a story on him. Surprised at the number of attendees for this, he explained the success of his blog and the "buzz. All the writing was moved, the guard at the Producer, to meet the phenomenon. During that installation and that the make-up, he saw the hundred people who strolled home. They began to dig, some were taking pictures of objects with him.
When the interview began, would have been in a cathedral silence of thousands of eyes flickered to Jukin. He began to explain how things happened. The crowd reacts positively when he brought up the discovery of his first comment. They booed by heart the internet anonymously and began to come alive. They applauded his downfall the stairs and cried when he told his first release due in pencil. They jumped frantically to wear their t-shirts as he spoke of the contract. They were warm and gesticulating everywhere. The elbow of a man shoved a table against the wall. The frame and the glass broke ground. Nobody paid any attention and they trampled the glass, their feet bleeding. Jukin had seen everything but could not say anything. The interview then ended. 3 beautiful girls, two brunettes and a blonde headed toward him amid the general crowd. Improvising a party at his house.
Girls complimented by approaching more and more. He felt their perfumes fresh and exciting. The first was the blonde to kneel. She unbuttoned his pants when the other two knelt in turn. Jukin recoiled. They threw themselves on her lower belly, tongue out. It was rejected, and rejected them again suddenly recoiled. His back hit his Viming. Pottery extremely dear to her heart slipped from its mount and exploded on the ground. Jukin yelled suddenly. On tearing vocal froze everyone. The 2nd howl, clearly directed towards the crowd, dissuaded even the most enthusiastic to stay. In an instant he found himself alone in front of the remains of the table, and monitor its Viming forgotten by the team. The show
freshly ironed registered there. He discovered in the screen, the greedy eyes of the 3 girls behind him. Its cathodic him he seemed so trivial that he felt relief suddenly. He mentally relives his hole in the ground. He was so full of prospects colored, translucent geometric shapes that he alone understood. The monitor that was flashing before him now spreading the snow was so empty in comparison. This
life he had not chosen. It was imposed by others. So it did not suit him, he does not please them. He took his pencil carefully slipped into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled on a cap. He got out and walked in the city, avoiding the possible fans who recognized him. Finally, he found what he wanted: a serious man with 3 piece suit, closed face, hair and chin ambitious. Then he offered this life, through the pen, the man who dreamed less fortunate. He advised him to move to get a box of latex gloves. After a happy, Jukin returned to his life, one that did not make waves, those that did not notice, that for which he died.
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