My Grandfather was in WW2, he served in the eastern European theatre in the latter part of the war. He told me a story of the time his squad came upon a gypsy encampment that had been devastated my something. All of the people had been mauled by some wild animals. The dead had been “chewed up and spit back out.” He said. There were bites all over them. While his squad was searching for survivors the dead began to get up. He said there was no way some of these people could have been alive. “There…
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Posted on September 12, 2008 at 4:09pm —
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the Joker..
the Joker...
I'll letyou know how it is.
the Joker..
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