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To ring in the New Year, we threw our pots

  • To ring in the New Year, we threw our pots and pans off the balcony.

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  • We were hoping they'd hit people below, but we missed, so we decided to throw a Lazy-Boy chair over the balcony next.

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  • Well, that didn't work either. We watched the Lazy-Boy bounce off the awning of O'Leary's grocery store below & crash to the sidewalk. Then we shoved our Commando 8 out the window

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  • . We were aiming for that newspaper boy who delivered late every day, but we hit a dog who took the big chill, bought the fridge, kicked the ice bucket, turned stone cold

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  • The dog had never done any of us any wrong, plodding though it's simple existence, driven by instinct and habit; but it died nonetheless, the pattern of it's life winding to an end

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  • as a bloody lump on the road, all because of Joe. In the grand scheme of things, I'd trade Joe's life for the dog's any day, so that night I pulled out all my transmigration books

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  • My voice tortured by its language, the soul of Joe passed from his body into that of the dog. The bloody lump moaned. Shit! I'd forgotten all dogs go to heaven. Joe's body just sat

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  • there motionless, the dog's body starting to twitch as Joe's soul filled it. I wondered how the hell Joe's soul was able to pass into an animals body, but what I should've been thi

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  • nking about was that Joe-dog had just used my leg like a fire hydrant. Okay, that was gross. "I'm calling your mom," I told the dog that now housed the soul of my friend.

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  • Eventually she picked up. "Your son is now a dog and he just pissed on my leg." Silence. "He's already dead to me," she answered. The line died. Ah, well. I always wanted dog stew.

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