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Where do I start? I suppose from Friday night.

  • Where do I start? I suppose from Friday night. I left your house and drove home. All the way there my mind was on you and the too-short time we spent together. I opened the door to

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  • the suprise of the burglar who was finishing up inside. I rushed to action by unleashing my glock from its holster and holding the looter in it's gaze. "You ready to pay the piper?

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  • "Ready? Me? Are you?" The burglar looked above me and I

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  • met his gaze at the chandalier which was wobbling dangerously, what did I care if it fell on his head though - or mine come to think of it?

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  • Suicidal chandelier thoughts are what occur to a drunk aging queen who made his Boca Raton retirement as a set designer. My boredom was punctuated by sex and violence but I

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  • had an urge like never before. An urge to find a Pinata and beat on it with one of those floating pool noodles. Which can take a while, I realize. I must find a pinata

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  • In the shape of a Teddy bear. Only whipping something fuzzy with a noodle would get her off my mind even if her scent still lingered

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  • on its fuzzy little hide. She snuggled with it every night, its beady eyes reflecting the beauty I'd risked my life for. When she crushed it, I took her teddy bear and tortured it

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  • mercilessly, as if that would bring me any solace. The bear still sits in my garage, gathering dust while I try to move on with my life. I keep telling myself

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  • that it could have gone the other way and I'd now be no more than poop on the forest floor. Despite what they said, it wasn't right to arm bears.

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