One day you might be on your way home from a good day at preschool and the next thing you know you're helping your dad lift a dead deer onto the hood of his station wagon so he can "slice that bugger open fer dinner." Some would consider this Hell.
I wonder if the kids fight over the pieces without tire marks.
Would sucking on the fluid from a partially decomposed raccoon's face be considered good or bad food?
The Behr tribe's trail of tears is a little different because it involves the unemployment office.
I guess this is why nobody wrote any songs about the summer of '79.
The Remains of Bidet (James Ivory, 1993)
We might find we have more in common than we think if we just stop fighting long enough to combine our bodies into a singular organism.
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