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5:15
When you come around the corner of the track, the swish of your windpants preceeds you. Always the same, black windpants. Just loose enough to do the plumber's justice, just tight enough to make the crack bubble and bulge. I swear... it speaks to me in nightmares.
Every day at 5:15, when you swish your swamp-ass towards me, I puke up a little.
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