12 DEEP CONSOLE TABLE - 12 DEEP

12 Deep Console Table - Table And Buffet - Marble Accent Table.

12 Deep Console Table


12 deep console table
    console table
  • A table supported by ornamented brackets, either movable or fixed against a wall
  • a small table fixed to a wall or designed to stand against a wall
  • (Console Tables) Tables made for fixing against a wall and having no legs at the back. They came into fashion early in the eighteenth century, and were made often in pairs.
  • A table meant to be displayed against a wall. It may be attached to the wall with only two front legs or freestanding on four legs.
    deep
  • relatively deep or strong; affecting one deeply; "a deep breath"; "a deep sigh"; "deep concentration"; "deep emotion"; "a deep trance"; "in a deep sleep"
  • Extending far down from the top or surface
  • the central and most intense or profound part; "in the deep of night"; "in the deep of winter"
  • Extending or situated far in or down from the outer edge or surface
  • deeply: to a great depth;far down; "dived deeply"; "dug deep"
  • (after a measurement and in questions) Extending a specified distance from the top, surface, or outer edge
    12
  • A video game content rating system is a system used for the classification of video games into suitability-related groups. Most of these systems are associated with and/or sponsored by a government, and are sometimes part of the local motion picture rating system.
  • twelve: the cardinal number that is the sum of eleven and one
  • twelve: denoting a quantity consisting of 12 items or units

Into the Light
Into the Light
Former Saudi Arabia June 8th, 2998 The young man's eyes flickered open, ice flicking off his eyelids as he blinked furiously, adjusting to the world for the first time in hundreds of years. From what he could tell, he was in a tube of some sort, but the outside world was hidden away by the ice coating the pod's glass. He rose his arm to wipe the thick frost off, but pulled it back, moaning in pain. His arm was so stiff, it felt as if the forearm and the shoulder had become one joint. Eventually, his arm cracked after many attempts to move it, followed by another gasp of pain. Feeling slightly more mobile, he bashed the glass with clenched fists, eventually throwing the pod open and tossing him out into the world outside. Outside the pod, was a seemingly overgrown compound, with vines trailing down the mechanical surfaces, and wrapping themselves around the stasis chamber, the centerpiece of the room. Whatever this facility was originally, it was long abandoned now. After a quick brush up on how to walk, the man staggered across the room, to some sort of console resting on desk, the bright screen's light just leaking through the vegetation that contained it. After pulling off the weeds and vines, the screen showed a man's face, with a stoic, grim expression on his face. Sensing movement, it began it's playback. If you're listening to this message...we are all gone. The..the... The message faded into static, before restarting. They...they drove us out. But I can assure you, when you hear this, we are somewhere. Some..somewhere out there. We expect you to not remember anything...dementia is common for someone who's been out so long. This message was recorded on January 12th, 2123. At the time you wake up and hear this, it could be any time, it could be tens of thousands of years in the future. But the point is, you are Thomas Adams, you were born in Auckland, New Zealand, before moving to London, and becoming a helicopter pilot for the SAS. You were put into cryogenic stasis as our last beacon of hope in these dark hours. You are the only human being on the planet. Take the weapon on this table, and head outside. They've probably evolved enough to be completely immune to bullets, but I suppose it's better than nothing. Good luck. Adams staggered backwards, not because of his akward walking, but because of the weight this message put on his shoulders. He was starting to remember the moments before he was put in, of his life, his friends. But they were all gone now, killed or driven out by whatever it was the man on the screen was talking about. He had no idea what it was he had to do, or what it was that drove them out, but he knew he had to leave this place. He took the rifle from the desk, checking it's magazine for ammo, and stashing up on all the extra mags he could find. But before he left the small facility, an automated calendar, hanging above the exit caught his eye. June 8th, 2998. Eight hundred and seventy five years after the message was recorded. Taking one final deep breath, Adams pushed the door open, the blinding light washing into the room, forcing him to shield his eyes. After two minutes of adjustment, he opened his eyelids again, revealing a world like one from a fantasy. A vast metropolis surrounded the seemingly tiny facility, all faded white in hue, and all with vines and other vegetation dangling off them. The weather was sunny, and the air felt crisp. It must have been hundreds of years since a single fossil fuel was last used. Creeks and rivers ran through abandoned streets and alleys, while halted cars and trains dangled, suspended above the ground by vines. Nature had reclaimed what was righfully it's own. After nearly a minute of looking on in awe at the massive structures, all swallowed by plantlife, a deep, robotic screech rang out, spooking birds out of their trees. He crept down behind an old park bench, and peered across a small creek. On the other side, was a large being, robotic in nature, but with some organic bits around the limbs. It's long, metal tail, bristled with sharp needles, swung like a flail, as it's single blue eyes scanned the area, the plasma weapon on it's arm activating upon any sign of organics. After what seemed like an hour, it's blue eye settled on Adams.
Deep Throat Part II (1974)
Deep Throat Part II (1974)
Deep Throat Part II (1974) Written & Directed by Joe Sarno

12 deep console table
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