"this is the last one!" someone shouted silence dropped into the room like a headless baby, everyone rushed the small box with the last donut, clawing, scratching and cursing their lot and the lot of their neighbors, friends, romans, countrymen, i took a running start, slid on the wax floor, under people, knocking their over, undercutting currents of discontent, "maladjusted bastards" i yelled, the table that held the box that hide the coveted donut, was jarred, the box bounced the donut did a piourette, and took off, flying like a ostrich with a firecracker in its posterior, i watched in horror, as it landed in the wastebasket, we gathered in a circle, to mourn the loss of that last resource... what will happen when there's only a little oil left? sharpen your swords, boys and girls, oil your guns, mom and dad, soon the great resource genoicide will have to rear its seven headed ugliness. cheers!Birth sign: Cancer
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