User:Daisesroses4life/sandbox

Once on a seemly pleasant Colombian, sweet summer night. The villagers heard of sheer fear, the thunder of manly motorcycles pulsating the land. In the whispers of the trees and ocean, the could hear the words that struck fear into their souls "daisies", "roses", "chains". The village knew their time have come they needed to put forward their sacrifices of their first born and a generous can of hair spray if they were to survive. This was not a force to reckoned with, you don't mess with the Daisy's roses or you'll pushing up posies..........