hickory barbeque meatball sandwiches
“Officer? Offic — hi. Listen I really think I’m okay now. Really! Please don’t walk away, I — officer! I think my blood sugar was just low or something, I’m not mad at Mr. Ross anymore. Honestly, I don’t even care… I know, I know it definitely seemed like I cared earlier when I was biting Mr. Ross’ kneecap — is he okay, by the way? — I just… I’ve been having kind of a hard time. My wife left me about three months ago, and the meat in the sandwich Mr.Ross… fucking… stole from my…goddamn fucking corner of the office refrigerator was the last of the meatloaf she had left in the oven before she TOOK A SHIT ON OUR LIFE TOGETHER AND RAN THE FUCK OUT. No, no, I’m FINE, I’m GREAT. I TRUST EVERYONE. Can you tell Mr. Ross that? Can you tell him I’m fine now and how much I don’t hope he bleeds out from his thieving fucking leg? Don’t shut the—”
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