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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
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More in Relevance bad question-- justice?
Oh, that bastard knew nothing, he said
when he squinted his eyes enough to hide little bent lies in the smoke from his nasty little newport menthol. He turned away, and tripped over a bouquet of pink alstroemeria, purple lisianthus, white daisies, and other soft blooms then kept walking as the thin moustached hispanic man in blue plaid brown corduroys let out, "¡Usted serpentea! ¡Pague por ésos! " in a sharp canine howl. a crumpled ten quieted him down and he shoved the mess into brown paper and handed it to me backwards, "Gracias," i nodded. I creep's obituary two days later no mention of a bullet between the eyes or who his friend was that snatched the old lady's purse on Winter Street. |
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