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I realized on the way to Holy Fuck that I couldn't feel my keys. I hated saying anything to John, since my cell died, he had to go (and) also miss Holy Fuck. At the gate I was searched at I discribed my keys adding that the whistle "looks like a pipe". After a pause (they responded) "We found nothing like that". Though I e-mailed lost and found a week later and got them back.

HELLACOACHELLA© 2008 by Nicholas Ivan Ladendorf