'Course, three minutes to Wapner. I'm an excellent driver. K-Mart sucks. We have pepperoni pizza for dinner Monday nights. Monday night is Italian night. Wednesday is fish sticks. Green lime jello for dessert. Counting cards is bad.
I could've convincingly acted retarded...1949 Buick Roadmaster. Straight 8. Fireball 8. Only 8,985 production models. Dad lets me drive slow on the driveway. But not on Monday, definitely not on Monday. Uh oh fart. Sally Dibbs, Dibbs Sally. 461-0192. Of course I don't have my underwear. QANTAS. QANTAS never crashed. 97X, bam! The future of rock 'n' roll. Uh oh, fifteen minutes to Judge Wapner. Fart....can't count a six deck shoe though.
I haven't been to Vegas since I was 12, so I don't really remember - is it just like CSI? Slightly blueish in color, and filled to the brim with dead prostitutes? Those people could find semen on anything.
See there? You have two autistic brothers.And between us, neither one can count a six deck shoe.
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