Wednesday, July 14, 2004

2nd TRIMESTER

I tried to ignore the thumping, but one can only take so much. I used to hate hail, but these pickles were much worse. At least hail melts. Pickles just lay about, staring at you, slowly shriveling and smelling of vinegar. Regardless, Sylvester Stallone never had it so good, the pregnant bastard.

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