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Kurt the Clerk

"Ima..."

BOOM!

The roadkill eating bitch, sprawl across the floor.

You drop your chair behind you, then return your butt-cheeks to it.

"That's better..." You murmur.



You awaiten for many hours...Swapping from Magazing-to-Magazine. From-porno-to-the news.


The silence is almost eerie. Even over the hum of the refridgerator. You begin to feel uncomfortable...As if there's something there...Lurking among the little aisles/isles...


Perhaps the Redneck has awoken, without you even knowing, left.

You look over the counter to look at the same ugly son-of-a-bitch.

"Hmm...." You suspiciously eye the room, you pupils darting from one section to the next.



"Hmph..."


Your tension rising, you feel yourself becoming increasingly paranoid.

You have 1 choice:

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