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anthcnystcrk:

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                       “ po-ta-to, po-ta-to. ”

               “ ho, ho, ho. “

          each note is laced with sarcasm, a hand urgently
          bringing a shot glass to her lips in an effort
          to douse her throat in poison. 

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               “ not a whole lot of people realize that we know
                 each other. whenever someone asks, i tell ‘em
                 i’m meeting a friend of mine that makes suits.
                 how’s that? all my people think you’re a tailor. “

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