Chapter Twenty Eight: Stealing Is As Old As The D20 You Rolled

I always found the Snickers bar as a fun corporate gag gone awry. What product would have the balls to be the exact verb that is able to describe anyone that sees you eating one? Snickers, mother-fucker. Man up, with a Snickers.

If my Mother wants to turn the Air Conditioning to 75 degrees, the condition should be that I am partially encased in a block of ice because I crossed paths with Mr. Freeze.

I once was given a pill at a cheesy 90’s rave. I asked what it was. The dealer said it was just aspirin. After 4 hours of non-stop dancing, my headache finally did go away and the dealer and I are now good friends.

Plants do not profit from the natural benefits of laughter, that’s because plants cannot breathe and have never smiled, because they’re older than that time in history when no one smiled but everyone got portraits done in Sepia filters in the 1910’s.

A modern, roundabout traffic circle is the newest way to appreciate the classic, covered wagon sequences in old westerns.

“It is the thought of the foolish man to ignore a closed Magic Shop, because a magic trinket could be anywhere.” – Tabletop Thief Proverb

When it comes to the next best thing, I always find myself with the next best discarded thing. One man’s favorite for a while until it outlived it’s usefulness is another man’s signal to try to low ball him for the thing he wants. If you win best two out of three, that’s when you can finally get your MBA.

I like to think of History as being told by a Pew Pal at the Sunday Morning Mass while trying to hide a bellow of laughter at how the story ends.


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