[…] the volunteer from the 9th company was shot because he wouldn't advance and made the excuse that he had swollen legs and was flat-footed.
There was fuck all else he could have done.
Even in the Midwestern summer heat, Al’s dogs hit the spot. Chicago is indisputably a hot-dog town, and there may be no better time than summer to feel that sunshine in your hands.
He just bucked everything risky up to management.
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