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Nation’s Sanitation Workers Announce Everything Finally Clean

‘Please Try To Keep It This Way,’ Say Workers

WASHINGTON—After spending years sweeping and scrubbing across all 50 states, the nation’s sanitation workers announced Thursday that everything was finally clean and asked Americans if they could please keep it that way.

Grandma Looking Like Absolute Shit Lately

VERO BEACH, FL—Unable to ignore the 86-year-old’s dramatic physical decline since they last saw her, sources within the Delahunt family reported Monday that their grandmother Shirley is looking like absolute shit lately.

Family Sadly Marks First 4/20 Without Grandmother

ALBANY, NY—Reminiscing about the departed matriarch while partaking in the annual festivities, members of the Osterman family sadly marked their first 4/20 since the passing of their grandmother, sources reported Thursday.

Report: Store Out Of Good Kind

UTICA, NY—Unable to locate them on their usual shelf, local man George Rambart, 41, reported Thursday that the store was out of the good kind.

Relapse Greatest Week Of Man’s Life

TAMPA, FL—Exhilarated for every minute of his multiday binge, local man Todd Caramanica told reporters Thursday that his relapse into crippling alcoholism has been the greatest week of his life.

Man Tries Using Pink 6-Pound Bowling Ball To Great Amusement

WEST ORANGE, NJ—Seemingly knowing full well that the relatively small and light ball was not designed for someone of his size, sources confirmed Tuesday that 25-year-old Darren Foerstner tried using a pink 6-pound bowling ball for one frame, all to the incredible amusement of friends and onlookers at Eagle Rock Lanes bowling alley.

Breaking: Waiter Picking Up Napkin With Bare Hand

SAN ANTONIO—Watching in horror as he directly handles the dirty, crumpled piece of paper without the aid of a glove or any other sanitary barrier, Sunset Grove Cafe patron Samantha Barnes is at this moment panicking upon noticing that her waiter has picked up her used napkin with his bare hand.
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This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us, Unless We Can Reach Some Sort Of Mutually Acceptable Compromise

I reckon everyone from Silver City to Carson's Gulch knows that you're here in my town, you sour-bellied varmint. And everyone knows that having two gunslingers like us in a town like this is like putting two ruttin' bobcats in a burlap sack. You see, this town, pardner, just ain't big enough for the both of us.

Unless, of course, we can work out some sort of equitable, mutually agreeable compromise. Then maybe we could both stay.

There's gonna be blood between us, hombre, because I'd just as soon spit in your eye as look at you. I got me an itchy trigger finger, and there's only one thing that can scratch it—and that's filling your flea-bitten hide full of lead at high noon tomorrow.

Exceptin', that is, unless you wanna have some sort of mediated discussion, during which we could each air our respective dissatisfactions and maybe find a way to avoid bloodshed. You know, talk things out in a civilized manner and try to find some middle ground we can both agree to. That might be better'n fightin'.

I heard what you said about me bein' yellow-bellied, an' you're lower'n a bloodsuckin' tick's belly if you think I'm gonna stand for it, you bowlegged half-breed. Though, in all fairness, you mighta just been callin' me yella in the heat of the moment and didn't really mean it. But I don't cotton to bein' called a welsher by no man, if that's what you meant to imply.

So I dare you to step across this here line I drew in the street, you mangy owlhoot. You done said some low-down things about Nacogdoches Slim, and I'm gonna make you slap leather. You're gonna be coffin stuffin's before the sun sets tomorrow, pard, unless you can come up with some other way of settling our differences. Like maybe we could sit down and talk about how we feel, and through open and honest communication, each try to get a better sense of the other's perspective. Or maybe we could exchange gifts as a way of saying sorry for the hurt we've caused.

Oh, if you do agree to have a gunfight and don't like where I done drew the line, I could draw it in another street. Or even in a different location on this street, you back-bitin' peckerwood.

And don't go lookin' for no help from that weak-kneed sheriff, neither. He's been scared to death of Nacogdoches Slim ever since I showed him I could plea-bargain a manslaughter charge better'n any man since Sam Houston hisself. And, besides, it was self-defense. So it's up to you an' me to settle this, mano a mano, until one of us lies dead. But hopefully, it doesn't have to come to that.

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Report: Store Out Of Good Kind

UTICA, NY—Unable to locate them on their usual shelf, local man George Rambart, 41, reported Thursday that the store was out of the good kind.

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