Then it seemed microcosmically fitting to allot boys to houses bearing the names of their home states.
“Whatchu got, man?” / “Reds, bennies, dexies, yellow jackets, demmies.” / “Yeah, demmies're good shit, man. I pay you. Fuck. I got money. I'm hurting inside. Got beat up. Where my money?”
The police grilled him about his movements at the time of the crime.
The workers stopped the rig on an incline and scotched the wheels.
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