You finished the last drop of Mountain Dew at the outskirts of your suburb. Sweat is dripping down your face, and your stylish t-shirt is dripping wet. You sit under a crabapple tree to take a break and admire how hard you've worked. Halfway there by now, you think before squinting down the road to see how far you've come. You can still see your house.
GAME OVER YOU FAT ASS. GOD DAMN YOU ARE FAT
They told us to stop playing videogames on a school night. If only we'd ignored them.
As a vicious predator, I find that I have a constant, overwhelming urge to lick apples out of a huge block of ice. It's only, natural, right?
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