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Omar 382
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There I was; a chilly September afternoon. You could tell the last inklings of summer were fading away as fall and then winter were waiting behind the curtains like a rapist hiding in his car; stalking his prey. I was smoking some Mango Kush, everything was kosher, until I heard something. "roarrrrrrr" said the noise. "hm" I thought. Then again: "Roarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr." I looked down and realized it was my stomach. As fast as a man who is told he can fuck Rachel McAddams if he runs a 5 minute mile, I threw the spliff away and ran to my convenience store.
Once there, I reached for the classic Herr's jalapeño chips when out of the corner of my eye I saw a sign that said: "$1.29 Uncle Ray's Hot Chips." "Well, goddamn" I thought. Nearly a third of the price for the same delicious spicy potato chips my marijuana-infused watering mouth was craving. I quickly raced back to my dorm, opened the bag, and tasted a barbecue potato chip. Not a jalapeño potato chip, not a spicy potato chip, but a fucking barbecue potato chip.
Naturally, I decided I'm suing Uncle Ray's. I've advised my lawyer to only refer to them in court as "the defense" or "Uncle Gay's." Of course, I will address the elephant in the room, the question you all have on the tip of your tongues that I will surely be asked while on the stand, and with which my whole case rests on: Was the bag orange or red? Well, I wouldn't be wasting all of your fucking time if the bag was orange, now would I. Court is set to convene on October 9th at 8 AM at the New Castle County Court House, Wilmington DE, 500 N. King Street, 19801. I expect to see most, if not all of you there, when I metaphorically deep-throat Uncle Gay's last-ditch attempts at a defense as to why I ate disgusting barbecue potato chips and not the spicy ones I paid for.
Once there, I reached for the classic Herr's jalapeño chips when out of the corner of my eye I saw a sign that said: "$1.29 Uncle Ray's Hot Chips." "Well, goddamn" I thought. Nearly a third of the price for the same delicious spicy potato chips my marijuana-infused watering mouth was craving. I quickly raced back to my dorm, opened the bag, and tasted a barbecue potato chip. Not a jalapeño potato chip, not a spicy potato chip, but a fucking barbecue potato chip.
Naturally, I decided I'm suing Uncle Ray's. I've advised my lawyer to only refer to them in court as "the defense" or "Uncle Gay's." Of course, I will address the elephant in the room, the question you all have on the tip of your tongues that I will surely be asked while on the stand, and with which my whole case rests on: Was the bag orange or red? Well, I wouldn't be wasting all of your fucking time if the bag was orange, now would I. Court is set to convene on October 9th at 8 AM at the New Castle County Court House, Wilmington DE, 500 N. King Street, 19801. I expect to see most, if not all of you there, when I metaphorically deep-throat Uncle Gay's last-ditch attempts at a defense as to why I ate disgusting barbecue potato chips and not the spicy ones I paid for.