SAM JARED BONAR
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  • Delicious Democracy
  • Old Odds and Ends
    • Old Stories
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    • Rants
    • Sounds and Spooks
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    • Wordplay
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SAM JARED BONAR

sam writes

About those april storems...

9/21/2016

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I finished them in April. But I dragged my ass getting them posted. And then fell off the wagon for writing. 

If you want my book TYKES, just have it already! It's free. Take it from me, you scoundrels!

But besides that, here's the first story from TYKES, "Churchy Past", to read - right here in the comfort of now. Amen:

CHURCHY PAST

Larren finished choir practice at 7pm every Tuesday. He would sing about the Lord after school and before homework almost every day. Tuesday was just the day he sang with other folks.

He’d walk the six blocks home from Church after practice and he’d count those six blocks with quick-back-steps as he side-skipped his way home facing left, then facing right, and so on.

“Right. Left-right.” 1. “Left. Right-left.” 2. “Right. Left-right.” 3. And so on. It would take Larren 28 counts per block if he took long side-strides. He usually did. He liked to get home fast.

Larren would take the mail from his family’s mailbox and run it up the stairs, across the porch, and through the screen doors that opened the wrong way. His Momma would be making dinner and if Larren got the letters to Pops before Wheel was over, his Pops would usually ask his Momma to give Larren a carrot-from-the-soup-broth to slurp down and tide him over until dinner.

He’d run with the dripping carrot up the stairs and catch the drops of soup in his cupped left hand. He’d run into his bathroom, slurp the puddle from his hand, hold the carrot over the sink, and speak into the mirror.

“Thank You Jesus for Momma for Pops for music for carrots for meat to make stuff tasty for my house for Pastor Greene for sunflowers for safety and for You, Your glorious Name, and the strength You and the Father give me. Thank You Lord for keeping me peaceful and blessed Amen.”

Then Larren would gobble down the carrot, staring at the chicken juices dribbling down his chin. He’d closed-mouth smile and chomp the four or five chomps it would take to gobble the carrot. Then he’d swallow the luke-warm stew in one gulp, letting out a burst of a chuckle as soon as the orange mess had tunneled down his gullet.
 
Though, once, it went different.
 
That day, he had counted to about 17 on the third block. He was facing to the left. And he stopped.

Larren stared up at Cindy Carmichael on her porch. She was in high
school! And Larren had heard, though he didn’t like to gossip, that she was still suspended for smoking pot. She had her hand in her shirt and was feeling around in there, staring back at him, kind of smiling a little. Larren didn’t leave the safety of the sidewalk.

Larren did not know what to do, but he also could not keep going home. With God’s Hand, he felt out the situation. He squinted to see how her hand was groping her chest. God told him sternly to watch without coveting. God told Larren to check in with how watching this made him feel. Strange, tingly. After a while, God told him to watch Cindy’s face and not look away. Then Larren checked the sky for any signs from Him.

He finally spoke up. “Why are you touching yourself like that?”
Cindy didn’t answer for a couple moments, then she sighed. “I’d tell you it’s to check my breasts for lumps like we’re supposed to, but I’d be lying. So I won’t say that.”

Larren liked her, but his hand trembled. His timid smile sneaked through his lips. Cindy was about 8 years older so she was a little not-to-be-trusted. She continued.

“I’m doing it because it kinda feels good for me. Sexually. Do you know what ‘sexually’ means, Larren?” She chuckled a little.
Larren thought about this question as he looked at Cindy’s feet from 20 feet away on the sidewalk. He tried to remember the times he had heard or saw the word. They were blurry and few, but he ventured a guess at the definition.

“I’m not sure. I think it has to do with people who get married or are married, but less so after the marriage. So… here’s my guess:

Sexually –adv
1. Done in the aftermath of getting married.”


Larren thought about this and nodded his head as he waited for the real definition.

Cindy smiled and laughed once pretty loud. “‘Sexually’ means done to try and make a certain type of pleasure. Physical pleasure. It’s nice having my boobs touched like this. Everybody tries to bring emotions into ‘sexually’, but that’s not what it means really. And ‘sexually’ usually implies that there’s more than one person around. You’re here. Watching. So I guess that’s why I said it felt good for me, sexually. Maybe that’s wrong.”

Larren processed all this. Then Cindy said, kind of smirking, "Do you want to touch my boobs, Larren?”

Larren was pretty sure he had an answer for this one.

“I don’t think so,” he said, twiddling his fingers on his thigh. He pointed at the sky, “I think… I think He doesn’t want me to. So, no thanks.” Larren tried to smile but wasn’t sure if that was right.
Cindy controlled herself, smiled again politely, and looked to the sky. Larren looked too and, together (though still 20 feet apart), they watched the day start to end. They watched night begin to paint its colors in the clouds. They watched for a minute or so. Then Cindy looked back at Larren. She was warm.

“Good choice. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if you said yes.” A moment. “Anyways, if you don’t want to … if He doesn’t want you to…” she ‘hmm’ed and they looked down for a couple seconds. Larren had to get home, so he just thought he’d leave it at that. Larren bounded forwards as he rotated 180 degrees clockwise, landing to the right and saying “18”.
 
Larren made good time on the way home that day despite the hold-up. He slowed down and began to walk normal as he got to his mailbox. His mouth was twisted and his forehead was scrunched-up as he took the rubber-banded batch of letters and junk mail from the mailbox. He lumbered up to the screen door to creak it open towards him.

Pat Sajack and Vanna White were side-hugging each other and waving goodbye on the TV screen when Larren walked into the living room.

“Just in time, Larr,” said Pops with his eyes on the screen still. He flopped his hand out to ask for the mail. “Your Momma’s got something special for you in the kitchen.”

“Pops. Do you, and Momma, ever do stuff to try and make a certain type of… of pleasure?”

Pop’s eyes furrowed and then widened, shifting uncertainly from the start of Jeopardy toward his son.

Larren went on. “Like… together? I guess, I mean, do you do it… often? Or… ever?”

Pops began to shake his head and gulp like his mouth was dry.

“MOMMA!” Pops spurted out spittle as he hollered for his wife. “OUR ssSON! H-he GOT uh-a question…. OHHHhhhh.” He was jumping out his seat now and swiveling his head owl-like.

“WHAT!?” Momma hollered back from the kitchen.

“Oh, just come here, Momma this is just… something.”

“SOMETHIN?” came with the sound of Momma’s hand slapping the kitchen counter.

“YEAH! Something. A q-question. Now, just come on now, Momma I… Well, I… I guess. I guess, I need you.”

Silence erupted in response. After a couple seconds, Larren heard Momma dip her ladle into the soup broth and start to click-clack her way to the living room. She walked in wearing Larren’s favorite apron and holding her ladle at shoulder height. Momma’s wary-eyes were looking at Pops. Pops was sitting mouth-open and shaking his knee with his panic-eyes looking at Larren. Larren looked back and forth until Momma gave up on Pops and turned on her detective-eyes to look at Larren. She took two steps slowly toward him while she held the ladle high.

“My, Larren. What’s going on?” She looked expectant which made Larren look down. She leaned over to kiss his forehead. That brought his eyes back up.

“Yeah, Larren, what’s going on?” Pops whimpered and whined but quit it when Momma hushed him with her stillness.

“Well. I asked Pops if you two give each other… pleasure. Physical pleasure, I guess.”

Momma turned on the crazy-eyes. Larren loved Momma’s crazy-eyes. Her eyeballs kind of stuck themselves out to get a better look while the rest of her face retreated into her head. Larren couldn’t hold in a little chuckle.

“Now this ain’t a laughing matter, Larren.” Larren looked down and forced a frown to make his face normal. “Where’d you get this from, now?”

Larren hesitated. “I… I got it from Jesus,” Larren felt like it was just a white lie, and it wasn’t that bad. Larren wanted to say it totally true, but that felt bad too. Momma would’ve called Noah’s Storm down on the Carmichaels if she heard about Cindy. Larren liked Cindy, even though her family didn’t follow the Bible too close. But they’d find Him. Larren knew it. Besides, God probably brought her out there to tell all that stuff to him. It’s not normal for a high-schooler to talk to an elementary-schooler. Larren’s lie was true enough.

“Now don’t play funny with me, Larren, or you won’t get your juicy veggie!” Momma lifted the ladle slightly higher.

“I wasn’t funny!” He believed that. “God was kind of tickling my neck when I was looking at the sunset. And I felt it - everywhere! And God was telling me that someday-not-now someone would make me feel that way more and that that’s how life keeps going.” He made that last part up before continuing, “And I just want to know whether you and Pops make each other feel. Pleasure, that is. I- I’m just… wondering…”

As he trailed off, Larren’s parents breathed in at the same time. Then they exhaled, looked away, and then looked at each other. Pops looked terrified. Momma looked back serious for a second, staring him down. Then, from nowhere, Momma burst out a victory “HAH!” and started laughing crazy all over. Pops, suddenly blessed, had his mouth jump up into little cautious smiles a couple times before finally just letting himself chuckle along with Momma. Larren didn’t know why they were laughing, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Momma got herself together a little, squeezed a bit above her stomach, then shook her head and moved the ladle down to Larren’s height.

It was a sweet potato! Larren snatched it before asking permission.

Then he remembered manners and looked up at Momma. Her smiled faded as she looked down but her face was still warm. Larren felt some drips coming from the sweet potato and cupped his hand underneath.

“That pleasure stuff,” Momma warned him, “you’ll learn someday. And don’t worry your head right now about us,” she touched her stomach softly and looked at it. Pops got up slowly and walked to her. When he got there, he asked with his eyes to touch her belly too. She let him. They looked down tummy-side like a couple of dreamers.

“Now go upstairs and eat your tasty veggie before it’s too cold. Dinner’s in 10 minutes.”

Larren ran up the stairs and into his bathroom. He slurped the puddle from his hand, held the sweet potato over the sink, and spoke into the mirror.

“Thank You Jesus for Momma for Pops for running around without shoes on for sweetness for animals for new friends for pleasure for surprises and for You, Your glorious Name, and Your generous-ness. Thank You Lord for blessing me without telling me everything Amen.”

Larren gobbled down the sweet potato with pride. He swallowed it slowly, savoring each little bit as it went down. It was heaven.
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Brad Scraps 4/30/16

7/2/2016

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Brad introduced me to some folks without really letting them know. He just told me who they were:

"Miranda - she's cool but doesn't like to meet new people."
"Ella - she's just cool."
"And... that's John, Melissa, and Sharon. All cool people, meet them if you'd like. I'm gonna keep on rolling, but I'll see you in the mosh pit for King Gizzard later. Right? If you really wanna fly close to the Sun..."

Then he trailed off.

I saw him later. King Gizzard still wasn't playing yet, I think it was Holy Wave who was on then. We said a nice "hi" and danced the shadow dance. Too much cigarette smoke where we were dancing, though, so I smiled at him and whispered "King Gizzard later" and trailed off myself.

When King Gizzard actually came on, the world unzipped. It was madness more than madness. And when I finally zipped myself up enough to get in the bachic mix, there was squirelly Brad crowd-surfing and almost eating shit on the ground. I was part of the crew that stopped his head from hitting the concrete. We hugged when he recognized me and I told him that I'd told him, didn't I! I'd be there - and there I was. He told me that wasn't enough. I had to fly. I had to.

When the jazzy song came on and people stopped pulling on our shirts, I did. I asked the big guy I kept running into for a boost and he boosted me a couple feet in the air, just enough for everyone's hand to grab my shirt again and keep me afloat. I was Icarus. I Beyonce'd my shoulders and grooved my neck. I waded into the pole and reached to climb it. Second try, I grabbed it and climbed up the 10 feet into the little rafters. I swung, but the party was actually better down below, so I climbed down the pole to regain my footing. But Brad wasn't having it. 

He came out of nowhere and had my foot, raising it with all his squirrel might to stay in flight. But I had given up, so the crowd had too. I told him to let me down - I'd had my time. He gave in to my weight and I dropped into the concert again.

"I tried, man," he chided himself.
"It's fine! I got to fly!"

He nodded sadly and disappeared again. I left after the show with Ryan and never saw Brad again. Ryan couldn't believe I made up someone with such a boring name. I couldn't believe it either. I didn't.
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Finally, Some Answers 4/29/16

7/2/2016

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How can we let the fog fade when we're with the ones we love? 
Be a strong breeze.

How do we know if anyone actually cares about the things we spend all our time on? 
Ask them - look 'em in the eyes!

Where do we go when home has no one left?
The beach.

Where are the people who will both appreciate your entertaining traits AND will entertain you?
Brooklyn.

Who is to be trusted with something your afraid to admit to yourself?
Your mom.

Who will appreciate you and actually say it?
Your mom. Oh, and Becca - she's a nice lady.

Why is it so hard to admit you're wrong?
Because you never do it. Work the muscle, you slimy scorpion.

Why does death let its clouds disappear when we dance in each other?
Cause dancing feels good, naked or not.
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Passover Haikucipes 4/28/16

7/2/2016

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For more Haikucipes, check out some Wordplay.

Melt sugar, butter;
Spread over a sheet of matzah;
Bake, spread choc chips, cool.

Cook down cheese, spinach.
Layer with matzah, veggies.
Bake like lasagna.

Pan fry your ferment
then, add rice, soy sauce, miso.
Crack an egg, cook slow.

Ignore the sandwich. 
Yeah, it would've been perfect,
IGNORE THE SANDWICH!

Just munch on carrots.
Goyim friends eat cake - don't be
a dick about it.

Matzah-pizza's nice.
Not as good as real pizza.
Still gives me rough gas.

Late night stomach growl.
Too late to bother cooking.
Hydrate: I'm full now?

What time is sunset?
8? Jesus. Does it start then?
Let's eat at... 7?

​The end is the best!
Burger? Cookie? Burrito?
Maybe just... bagel.
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Great Speaker (NSFW) 4/27/16

7/2/2016

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Trigger Warning - this story is pornographic!

I tremble as she raises her eyebrows at me. Her hands are on my shoulders. Her legs are spread. She's not wet, but my fingers were helping, and my mouth! Ohhh well let's just say I didn't quite know what to do with my tongue.

"You ready?"

​"Yeah, c'mon Rick, just go before I totally dry up."

She's still with me, folks! Ok! Easy now, there it --

"NOT. there! Little higher, Rick..."'

God she's so cute. Just a little higher - how helpful! Ok, just raising myself up, yeah that feels ok. Hmmmm.

"Did I reach the end? Is your pussy that small or my dick that big, ha!" I chuckle

"Uhh, my pussy is that dry. Come back out and then go back in SLOWLY!"

"Right." Slowly? Ok, but if I don't go fast soon I'll soften up. No don't think like that! No I won't. No. I. WON'T. SHE'S SO CUTE!

"Slower!"

"Right." God that seems so wrong, but hm. Wow in I go, but just a little more. Chugga-chugga, little choo-choo.

"Ok, back out again, Rick. Slow. A couple more times before it's all ready for, yeah," God, she's hot as fuhhhh.

"Right." Out again! Easin' on in now. Actually it does feel pretty good prolonged this way. Hm. I never do it by myself like this. It's always just churn and burn. But I feel like I'm picking this up quick!

"Ok, yeah, ok that's better. Yeah, hmmm. Yeah, yeah, ohh, ok."

"How do you like that?" I coo.

"Ok, yeah. I mean, good. Actually, pick it up a little. It's working now so I like it kinda... hard, now?"

I'm ready for this! Sha-POW!

"Ahh-Ah-AhoAhoooh waitwait hold on, Jesus. Ok, harder. But like, still slow. Then pick it up. Ok?"

"Right." I actually don't get it but I'll give it a go. I pull out to the very tip and freeze there like I'm waiting for clearance to dock. I feel kind of silly but she looks the happiest she's been all night, squirming even. Hm. And, now..... IMPACT!

"AWhhohhwow - Oh ok yeah." I slide out again to the edge. "Shit, Rick, that's actually good. Do - " IMPACT! "Ohhh fuckshit me. Now slowwwwly pick that sh - " IMPACT! "Ohhh - it shit. Ohh fuck, damn."

Even I'm saying stuff now without meaning to. Because, it feels like, damn good. I think. For her - I hope - too. She starts swirling her bottom up to meet my impacts and, like, I guess... I guess I can say this only once... but this is the best day of my-ayy-ay-ayy-yii-yii.... OOOh.....MAN!

It's over.

Fuck, she's still horny, keep going!

"Wait, stop stop. Didn't you cum?"

"Yeah, but you didn't." I determine to follow through and IMPACT again! "You deserve it!"

She looks at me weird and puts her hands on my chest to stop me. "Well, that's... sweet, I guess. But you're all flaccid now. It usually takes me more than one time with a guy before I can... either way."

"Right." My hips sink slowly to meet hers.

"Don't be hard on yourself. You were alright. I can work with you... You were a great listener." She actually smiles.

I do, too, of course. "You were a great speaker."


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Breathe 4/26/16

6/23/2016

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Breathe
Damnit, breathe. Don't puke, now. Breathe. The Food was sloppy and poisoned but you are a rock. You are an island.
Breathe
Breathe for your footsteps, one at a time. Breathe to wake the air of its stillness. Breathe. Breathe despite the bumpy Metro. Close your eyes and breathe - is this better or worse?
Oh, I don't know, just breathe.
Breathe, you rock you island, breathe.
Steps, now, lumbering sturdy, stoice, strong. Breathe.
Walking is just you now, you have control.
Just breathe.
Breathe for how close you are now. Breathe because you're still so far away. Breathe. 
Breathe for the rituals you've lost and the traditions you've gained. Breathe.
Breathe it's the way through danger and despair.
Breathe up the steps and to your room where you Breathe you lay on your sheets you washed but did not put back on your mattress yet damnit.
Breathe it's fine. It's comfortable. Control.
Breathe.
Oh, no, breathe but maybe not oh boy if I don't get this out it'll be there for days. Oh, breathe, but don't - Puke?
Oh, I hate Puking but the waiting is the hardest part. Do I breathe? Choking doesn't do it, only retching.
I breathed too well and now the poison stays in me. 
Puke. Ugh, I want to Puke but I goddamn hate Puking. Puke. How does one Puke when you've spent your life stopping the Puke?
Puke!
Oh, I know Puke Oh think of the food. Puke.
Puke and think of the food that did this to you. Puke. Puke and stew on that lamb and chicken over rice with the all-too-creamy white sauce. Wait and Sit. And Puke. Think of the choice to get Tasty Kebab even though you knew it would end like this. Puke. Oh, Puke, here it comes!
Puke.
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uLTIMATUM 4/25/16

6/23/2016

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"Just a bit of the day I quite enjoy.
The rest I could take or leave.
What category do you wish to find yourself in, Montgomery?"
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Soul Power 4/24/16

6/23/2016

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Smooth Sailing down the River Nile,
me and MY!
river gods are no compare-aye-son!
SIR! It's nice to know you're here as well.
OF COURSE, you're always here; I've
known, I mean, I can, I will - 
oh, no confidence untoward, I promise
I'm no bore.
It's up to you - the withered hope of
distance on the chords
of throats, that's drowning in the moats
of Nords and resistance players:
Suave as next of kin, they'll never
win. But give their honor back, they will!
But, still. Is that enough, I guess it's 
no choice of mine but Up - the distance
we've been trained to go.
Where will I flourish? Where be my rodeo?
I'm not alone, but hardly special yet.
I'll whine and giggle, fight like Lafayette.
But what's my battle - what's my major cause?
Where will I take my stand - deMAND! applause?
I'll calm the sorrows, rub them on the neck.
I'll weep the willows, give them tissues, yet
where will I cry?
Where will I die? For I, am not immortal,
yet not without a quick -
-ness or less that'll get me through this shtick.
Please be curried forth of inter-depths.
Please add Palak Paneer to all this mess.
Please send my follow-flower;
​release the soul power.
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I Ain't Never Seen That Before 4/23/16

6/14/2016

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"I've seen some nasty things in these streets but I ain't never seen a man take a whole squeezer of honey and dump that mother all through his naked-ass, take a small can of gasoline, guzzle some and spit it back on his bawls, then make a make-shift camp-fire outta sticks and cigarette butts and shit (really takin' his time about it too), get that fire going, then have an assistant tie his honeyed-hands behind his back and sprinkle A-Grade bird seed all over the mess of himself, then he kneel his dumb-ass down to rest them gasoline bawls in the little fire, and wait to see what happen.

"I ain't never seen that shit before. Sounds like a mess."
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Footage 4/22/16

6/14/2016

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Rick had the camera ready: low to the ground, but pointed up for exaggerated perspective on the skateboard. He was crouching next to the half-pipe but facing away from it, looking instead at the railing Jeff Carpenter was trying to get a grind on. 

Jeff kept screwing up the end of this trick where he dismounts from the rail with a kick flip, even though this should've been the easiest part. The hard part (which Jeff somehow kept nailing) was the start of the trick where he did a Japan-Air off the mound and landed on the rail one-footed to start the grind.

The park was closing and Rick had to get home soon if he wanted to edit the footage in time for Jeff's official board release the next day.

"One more shot, or we'll just have to use the stuff from yesterday. At this point, we could even just show one of the times you nailed the start and just cut away to something else at the end!" Rick laughed a bit but Jeff wouldn't look at him. Fairly unsuccessful. "All right, then. Shooting and ready when you are, Carps."

Jeff Carpenter flashed Rick his eyes then looked back at his board and exhaled. He pushed off.

He had enough speed as he hit the mound and lifted his leg off the board. Rick was right under him when Jeff planted his left foot at the top of the mound and launched himself and the board into the air with just his right foot on the board.

Damn, and he really launched this time. The landing would be harder, for sure, but Rick was worried about the shot. He wanted the perspective. He wanted to see the height Jeff was getting. He backed up a bit to get 'em both --

--And back-pedalled straight into Lupo Nunez going up for a 540 on the half-pipe. WHAM went Lupo's knee into Rick's bony butt and ZOOM flew Lupo's board straight up and off of the pipe. Rick face-planted straight into his camera which then planted straight into the concrete. Lens, screen, SD card holder: all cracked.

"You MISSED it! Jesus, Rick! You spend all day dinging my balls on this and you're out for the count as soon as I... Oh, shit, Rick - you cool?"

Groans from the ground. Rick unearth's his head from his devastated camera. It doesn't look good, but he's not bleeding.

"Damn thing, saved your face, Rick! How's the other footage?"

Rick looked down, still speechless. It was a not-so-pretty sight. He shook his head with a moan.

"Fuckers... Aight. Well, let's do what you said and use the stuff from yesterday, then. I gotta roll, man. Lupo - you alright, man?"

Lupo and Rick shat on Jeff at each other, unable to find the words. Fuming at themselves, at each other, at the stupid park, at health. Crash-landed they stayed.

"Ha! Guess y'all need a moment, then!" Jeff smiled and skated off.
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