That poor guy is already busting his hump, learning his job, working sixteen or eighteen hours a day for some fruitloop who throws pens when he gets mad.
But it passed, leaving us up to our knees in water. 'Bail out! bail out!' shouted Job, suiting the action to the word.
The medical trucks were emblazoned with the emblem of the Red Cross.
Seeing that we didn’t know anything about ourselves, he whipped out three sticks of tea and said to go ahead, supper’d be ready soon.
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