...Hello. Would you like a potato chip?
The driver got out his car and looked at the old woman. The only thing in tact was the bag of potato chips. The car had smashed into the old lady and crumpled a fac that must once have been beautiful, and her arm was twisted out of shape.
Where the old woman had hit the tarmac, it had taken away the skin from her face.
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If Birds were Purple. This branch
was posted on March 30, 2008 by
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