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Day of the Lawn Lepus

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Sweatageddon: The Scorching

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  Where the Birds Need Chapstick Hotter Than A Habanero’s Armpit The sun bore down, turning the asphalt into a griddle, the wind a blistering wave and deserted streets into a convection oven set to broil. The air shimmered with heat, as if the entire atmosphere was auditioning for a part in a sci-fi movie about a planet made of lava. Venturing outside was like stepping into a blast furnace; sweat didn’t just drip, it cascaded, stinging eyes and soaking clothes faster than you could say “heatstroke”. It’s so hot outside that even the lizards are wearing oven mitts. Birds panting in the shade of the trees, casting envious glances towards house cats lounging behind cool windows, smugly licking their paws as if to say, “Sucks to be you”. Even the bees, usually buzzing around like tiny drunk pilots, had gone silent, replaced by an eerie stillness that made you think of that creepy moment in a horror movie right before a jump scare. This wasn’t just summer anymore; this was a scene strai...
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Good Health and a Bad Memory

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  Some folks, man, they’re like human time capsules for grudges. They get hung up on every little snub, every perceived insult, real or imagined. Nursing the slightest slight like fine wine. Just waiting for the perfect moment to unleash a torrent of pent-up vengeance and exact payback, like a shaken soda can aimed at the unsuspecting world. But let me tell you, this kind of grudge-hoarding is about as healthy as a diet of deep-fried Twinkies. It’s like a toxic sludge that slowly corrodes your soul. You might not see it, but trust me, folks can smell it a mile away. All that stewing and plotting can leave you etched with a permanent scowl or hunched over like Quasimodo from carrying the weight of the world’s injustices on your shoulders. Either way, it ain’t pretty. A memory like a steel trap ain’t a blessing, it’s a curse. Seriously, what’s the point of dwelling on some petty slight from years ago? It’s like trying to remember the name of every mosquito that ever bit you. It’s a w...
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