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Now is the winter of our discount tent. As it is ten o’clock in the post-meridian, I find myself having waited too long to order a pizza, and have three choices.
1. Go out to eat at Denny’s or Wendy’s.
2. Finish off the ice cream in the fridge.
3. Stop getting fat by eating at 10 P.M.
If I go out to eat, I will spend upwards of five dollars on a meal that tastes like shit. If I finish the ice cream here, I will be hopped up on delicious sugar, and I will not have said ice cream for a later date. The other contents of my refridgerator are as follows:
My father told me the other day that these are the best years of my life. I am going to Wendy’s and will stop by 7/11 for toilet paper. That sentence was not a non sequitur.
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