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Tommy took another bite of his footlong hotdog. As he wiped the dripping mustard off the side of his mouth he turned and saw the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. It was her, | Marjorie, his destiny. Or so he thought. Tommy never knew much about fate and the cosmos. He couldn't even eat a hot dog without making a mess of his favorite stripey pants. He scoured his brain for a suitable pick-up line. | "Hey, honky, how's it hanging?" he tried, feebly. Well, that went over like a bag of bricks. | Marjorie blushed as she looked down at Tommy's stripey pants. Why did she only get approached by these slovenly, clownish types? Tommy tried again, "Hey!" | As he moved towards her, the hotdog slipped from the bun and fell on the ground. Tommy took another step, and felt his dinner squish under his shoe. Marjorie could not disguise her mortification.


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