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	<title>Stories of Intrigue &#187; Wolferine</title>
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	<description>The Home of "BLOOD DOG"</description>
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		<title>Rumble in the Jumble</title>
		<link>http://www.storiesofintrigue.com/2010/12/30/rumble-in-the-jumble/</link>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 30 Dec 2010 20:11:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Daniel</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[By: Daniel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wolferine]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Raging Wolferine
The hammuck breezed back &#8216;n fourth in the winds like a fat child unable to work a swingset. It was Lazy Sunday and Wolferine was lazing about with various exotic fruits and shrimps shishkabobbed on each of his adamantium claws. His murder weapons justsupposed into a picture of domestic bliss. Acoustic guitars plucked angelic [...]]]></description>
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		<title>He spit a luigi to the ground.</title>
		<link>http://www.storiesofintrigue.com/2010/01/18/he-spit-a-luigi-to-the-ground/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 18 Jan 2010 21:41:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Daniel</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[By: Daniel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wolferine]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Food Fight
Wolferine sat perched atop his motourbike like a frog on a lilypad of the utmost chrome and sexuality. Echoes of winds and quiete desperation of this lonely town flowed thru his hairs like a song from the Blair Witch 2: Book Of Shadows Official Soundtrack (Jive Records). Beneathe his Oakleys his eyes squinted like [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Some witch&#8217;s hour.</title>
		<link>http://www.storiesofintrigue.com/2009/01/31/some-witchs-hour/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Jan 2009 09:07:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Daniel</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[By: Daniel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wolferine]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[The Muscle The Bone The Heart
The seen was set and the seen was thus: ice sculpturs in the shapes of well-bread K9s, lady&#8217;s with dimon earings, shandlears like Antartic glacers hanged in the air like Conan-hairs. Pure Hichcockian. Old men dressed in the nines bandied about there conversations of golf swinging, annie-lock breaks, and small [...]]]></description>
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