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i'm reasonably certain there's a game afoot in my home called 'hide dad's shit'. there are simply too many of my possessions that go missing at any given time for any other explanation to be plausible.
distrustful of my hunch? when i find my favorite tie rolled up in the bottom of marty's twelve-year old moon boot in the back of the coat closet ... downstairs ... i'm feeling rather convinced.
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