Ah, 7-11, those numbers bring back fond memories from the '80s. I used to sell $10 cartons of cigarettes to the poor of South San Francisco. Nothing quite induces a bowel movement like a bite of a pump chili dog, taking a drag off a Camel, followed by a swallow of coffee, all while sitting on the throne. Nowadays with Metamucil that romance just isn't there.
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Semper Paratus
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