Monday, February 2, 2009

Drill Master Battery Charger

Surviving the Apocalypse, it's simple.

That night, after the nuclear Apocalypse, an insoluble problem arose with me in my tarot deck was missing a lot of strengths, and in my poker game was missing all the little cards and at least one of the faces of each family. Crap. Even gathering the packets, the count was not (And more painful it was to be mixed). I tried to recalculate the coast to adapt my game, but when I realized that I never royal flush, my heart missed a beat and I stopped short, a taste bitter in the mouth ...
reflect, there MUST be a solution ...
That's when I noticed the helicopter that was lying nearby. The fly was a breeze, to fly for that matter, and several minutes later I was introduced to the office of President of the all-powerful Gaming Commission. In his great play throughout design, the old man disillusioned me explained that the stock of playing cards of the Commission was in a fallout shelter I could of course serve me. We talked a little rake to 12% practiced by some sharks who profited shamelessly from the Apocalypse. And it was there that he offered me a job as a monitor of organization of poker tournaments in the region. With an air of cocker beaten, he warned me that the job would be boring pretty quickly, but I took it anyway, because already I could keep the helicopter, then because it was very well paid. .. I was putting a bad mark in red pen on a really rotten structure that had received a duplicate copy when I woke up.

And besides, it's Monday.


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