Were you dreaming that you were a greyhound? Did your ragged paws pound the road to Winnipeg? Did you dream that you were already at the carnival, letting the girls - even the ugly ones - ride the Twister for free? Were you were awoken by the man in the scratchy synthetic seat so close beside you? This man had made one too many deliveries on his paper route, and had a Rambo knife in the pocket of his wind-breaker. It was not your fault.
Rest in Peace.
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