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You run off and keep the undies. You take them everywhere, even to school. Everyone's so jealous. They assume you got his undies a different way. But they're all jealous. One day the kleptomaniac, lock picking, gay, Paul Walker loving guy who sits in front of you in English stole them out of your locker. You knew it was him but you tried to get them back. He slaps you with a glove and challenges you to a spork duel. Little did he know before you were a big Paul Walker fan, you were a southern colonel who did nothing but duel all day. He runs away and ends up making tomacco, with the loyalty of a cat and the clenliness of a dog. You're left with no undies and no fight. You die young and alone and sad because you didn't have Paul Walker's undies. |
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