New things everywhere
Justin bieber was sitting on a coffee shop, with his left fist tightly holding a capuccino. He lifted his cup in a heroical stance and declared: "I will fight against the rain." He stood up and walked straight into the rain, with no other protection than a plastic cup containing coffee with milk. Of course, it was useless. The clouds won in the first couple of minutes. His hair was the proof anyone could need. It was bombarded in a very cruel way. The fleas living in his hair screamed one after the other. Several died while inside their homes. A flea exodus started that ended up in Bieber's pants. 15,000 fleas survived and now populated the woody areas of south-bieber. The rain also made everything else a wreck. Even the coffee. Now it was rain coffee and it was undrinkable because of the inadequate temperature. Everything else was inadequate:
It was Justin Bieber running in the rain lifting a cup of coffee like a torch in a neverending marathon. Hitler was making a speech and transforming into a car on the corner and writing a big manifest in sanskrit to defame jews once more. Kerli saw Justin from afar, running under the rain. Kerli needed Justin and he tought he could catch a cold, ruining his voice for their next concert in Vilnius, Estonia. Kerli ran to catch bieber before he got more wet. As soon as he stepped first in the wet ground, his boots made a slippery sound and he fell in the ground with his head, leaving him unconscious with no one around to help him. On his unconscious reverie, he started singing:
Somewhere over Estonia, way up high...
There's a town no one's heard of, lonely Vilnius...
Somewhere inside Estonia, Vilnius burns..
And the kerosene you've bought, really do fire up....
He sang and sang until he drowned from the raindrops that fell inside his nostrils. He died while singing the notes. Adolf walked by and took out a tripod. He started to paint. It was a beautiful painting, the water spurting out of his mouth in intervals while he gasped for breath was depicted beautifully... Meanwhile Michael Manson was dancing to the sound of teenager black metal polkas that played everyday on a garage. The fleas made a buttparty when the cappuccino got spilled...
Sitting on a table by the road, under a sidewalk awning, was a table. On one side Moco and freckle, on the other the poet and Hubble. Adrian was playing in the restaurant some songs by Joe Passs. They contemplated all the strange events while laughing uncontrollably. The poet then said: "I would never...
New Playmate! Great! 
