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"Everyone sucks. The world sucks. Buying stupid crap sucks, after a while. The majority of the crayons in the box suck," then he stopped. His son was only four and looked upset
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as tears welled up in his eyes. As a father, he'd fought for a better education and every opportunity he could afford for his children, and he could see this shattered by his own
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had to stay glued to the Best Buy media wall to finish watching the last episode of "As the World Turns." Bill was such a douche.
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He kept trying to sell me one of those 70 inch TVs. But there's not a lot of use for one of them when you call a cardboard box home. Couldn't he see that
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my attire proved a point. Couldn't he see the dark torment that boils inside me everyday, waiting to release itself on some unsuspecting salesman. If he calls me dude on more time
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I'm going to punch him . Who uses the word 'dude' anymore, anyway? Yet he continues to prattle on. His pitch isn't exactly original, but something in the way he talks keeps me
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interested. I dove to my right dodging the imaginary bullets. I wasn't going down without a fight, or at least $25. That was the final insult, I drove my fist up into his
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script. You're a useless Mr Smith. You should see the oracle. With that I boosted off into the air, with my black mac flapping behind me like the wings of a raven.
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