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I Just Assumed The Hobo With The Top Hat Was The One In Charge

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Man Practices Haircut Request Before Heading To Barber

MINNEAPOLIS—Having scripted a set of lines he hoped to deliver with confidence and decisiveness, local 34-year-old Jason Clyne carefully rehearsed his haircut request several times Friday before heading to his local barbershop, sources confirmed.

Ronald McDonald Statue Bears Full Brunt Of Teenagers’ Mockery

CLEVELAND—Remaining stoically silent throughout the barrage of vicious insults, unsavory accusations, and various other indignities directed at it, a statue of Ronald McDonald seated on a bench outside the fast-food chain’s Clark Avenue location is said to have borne the full force of a group of teenagers’ mockery Thursday.

Woman Leaving Meeting Worried She Came Off As Too Competent

OXNARD, CA—Silently chastising herself for the way she behaved in front of her colleagues and supervisors, Cobalt Property Insurance sales associate Leah Manning, 36, was reportedly deeply worried Tuesday that she came off as too competent during the company’s weekly sales meeting.

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GOLDEN, CO—Their eyes widening in amazement as the 43-year-old rattled off the names of heavy hitter after heavy hitter, impressed members of the Dreeshen household confirmed Friday that the roster for their mom’s upcoming dinner party was absolutely stacked.

Bold Intern Giving Parents Tour Of Office

CHICAGO—Brazenly strolling through the rows of desks while pointing out the firm’s various departments to his two guests, Lodestone Media intern Nate Kapper, 19, made the incredibly bold move of giving his parents a tour of the company’s offices Wednesday, sources reported.

Beautiful Spring Day No Match For Last 35 Years Of Man’s Life

LITTLE ROCK, AR—Nullified almost immediately by the collective force of decades’ worth of resentment and disappointment, a bright and beautiful spring day was said to be no match for the past 35 years of local man Thomas Unger’s life, sources confirmed Tuesday.
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I Just Assumed The Hobo With The Top Hat Was The One In Charge

Should anyone in the hobo camp on the outskirts of the abandoned railyard find this paper, I would ask you to please pass along the following message to your cohorts before you use it to line your shoes, assuming you can read. It would be greatly appreciated.

In regards to our encounter this past Saturday, apologies are in order, the first, and not the least of which to the gentleman, Meat, whom I approached at the hobo encampment last Tuesday night looking to acquire some temporary labor in exchange for a hearty bean dinner. I leapt to certain conclusions about you based on your appearance, and I shudder to think of my rudeness. Primarily, I am sorry that I took for granted that you were the mayor of your hobo village.

I admit, I rushed to judgment. In all honesty, I had previously only read about hobos in books or seen them in movies and maybe a painting or two, usually in clown makeup, and I suppose I had a rather romantic notion of what they were like. So when I saw you, Meat, at what appeared to my untrained eye to be a position of prominence at the fire barrel wearing a top hat and the most striking coat of all the hobos, I assumed you were the leader. But you know what they say about assuming. Assume makes—well, I'm sure you've heard it before.

I don't want to appear to be making excuses, but you were eating from the largest can of beans as well, which only served to heighten my confusion. Had I noticed that your big toe was sticking out of your boot from the start, I would have looked elsewhere for leadership.

I now know that I was to have spoken to Doc, who, it would happen, was passed out at the time of our encounter, and looked nothing like a medical doctor. Maybe it's my naiveté, but I thought that if one were to rise to the level of hobo king, or whatever one would call it—well, there is simply no gracious way to put this—I never imagined that the hobo leader would smell so strongly of old urine.

So to Doc, it seems, I also offer my apologies. Again, I am so embarrassed.

In any event, it was certainly not my intent to slight your president in any way. I also regret waking her in such an abrupt fashion. I suppose that if I had been jarred from my slumber by a sharp blow from someone's boot, I would have lashed out as well. Perhaps not quite as physically, but, all the same, I would have been quite cross. The fact is, no matter how we appear, even if it's in a sunbonnet and woolen blanket mottled with summertime filth and reeking of Sterno and effluvia, we are all human beings.

While I'm at it, allow me to extend heartfelt apologies to both the gentleman in the calico-patched trousers and red-kerchief bindle upon whom I think I poured gasoline in a moment of confusion, and to Boxcar Lucy as well. On reflection, it seems obvious that her name is derived from her preferred means of transportation, and not her size, upon which I made a few unfortunate and poorly chosen remarks. I must confess some amazement that a woman of her means would be so large, but I suppose her size is irrelevant. It is probably because she houses such a big heart, though I wouldn't know, given that she threatened to boil my insides and eat them.

In any event, I hope that we can move beyond all this misunderstanding so that future encounters, should they occur, will not result in the promised blade between my ribs. Please accept my humble apologies, some cigar butts that you can smoke with toothpicks, four cans of stew and two dollars, which I understand is the cost of justice among you people.

I'm sorry. That came out all wrong.

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