Where?Hot Pockets? Check.
Milky Way bars? Check.
Emergency Toilet? Check.
Mountain Dew? Mountain Dew? Mountain Dew? It should be right here between the milk and the orange juice. You check the lower shelves of the fridge and pull out the drawers at the bottom that you never use but assume they're for vegetables. Nope. Nothing.
You go to ask mom what happened to your Mountain Dew reserves, and on the way you see your sister and a few of her friends out the window. Between them sits the two liter. You want to confront her, but decide to tell on her instead. You carefully explain to your mother that you have a WoW raid coming up in less than an hour, that there is a large challenge ahead of you, that you are like a machine and you need your fuel. She offers you a can of her Tab--it'll give you the same energy with half the bad ingredients. She just doesn't get it. You check the clock and see the time between now and your raid quickly ticking away. You don't have very much time.
We have used extensive market research to determine the average consumers of America's favorite rolls of caramel-oozing choco cysts.
That atheist professor should have kept his mouth shut around this American Sniper.
'Let the building eat you.'
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