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"Pipes, pipes, pipes" he wheezed, "you'd

  • "Pipes, pipes, pipes" he wheezed, "you'd think that, as a plumber, I'd be pretty damned sick of the things by now. And, you know what?" He paused to spit, noisily, onto the tarmac,
  • which made my stomach flip over. A burst of vomit bounced off the back of my throat. What a disgusting plumber, and so boring. By I was a flight attendant, "Sir, please board the p
  • Lane and be quiet so some passengers can sleep." I knew I wouldn't sleep. I politely sat down and looked around. The newspapers were handed out for free. A way to pass the time.
  • I couldn't be bothered with that sort of tedious session. I had brought a book with me - the only thing I
  • ever found to be helpful in these sort of situations. It was always hard to get through these, especially with those annoying llamas, but books were the amazing help I needed.
  • I quickly snatched up a book, knocking several others to the ground. "Llamas, llamas..." I mumbled to myself as I frantically thumbed through the pages. It was getting terribly
  • past my bedtime, but dammit! I HAD to finish my research! I lashed myself mentally with a wet noodle (again), reminding myself never, ever to procrastinate on my assignments again!
  • Maybe I’ll just copy off of someone, or just pay them to do my assignment for me. Maybe I’ll sleep with someone and I’ll get a pass that way. There’s more than one way to
  • roast this weasel for a Saturday barbecue in the South! Sure, I've never had to stoop this low in the past, but I've never had a professor who was this short either. Maybe I'll
  • just microwave him with his googly professor glasses to give a psychedelic glow and add a couple of uncooked up Easter eggs for good measure. Times up. Pop goes the Weasel!

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