Long

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Nazi Zombies by

I’ve got about ten minutes to rethink our plan, which of course I’m not doing because I’m thinking what a cool trick this is, how it’ll make me famous in the high school and, who knows, beyond, it’ll get a rise out of Mike and maybe make me a celebrity, like on Allen Funt, get me a spot on the Battle of the Network Stars or something, like that’s the kind of famous I’d be, and that yeah, I’d like to touch a boob too this year, I’m due, I’m a nice guy and all, and I bet those actors on The Network Stars touch boobs all the time—Farrah Fawcett’s, Suzanne Somer’s, it’s like a boob buffet when you’re celebrity. Like Chachi.

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The City Is Not A City by

There are moments of great shame in Las Vegas and New Orleans, where you look at the desired object, and you feel guilt because you want nothing more than to just stand and stare. You want to remain, gaping open mouthed, watching it occur in front of you, to not do anything about it—just spectate.