Last night I was dropped off in front of the house by Country Kitchen. The house was in the process of deconstruction, but Country Kitchen and Perkins had been plowed over, leaving only dirt behind and a broken Perkins sign. I could see all the construction equipment for Super Wal-mart. Angered, I began walking down 6th St. The streets were abandoned, so I walked down the new grass median. After walking a ways I came to Amoco where I wanted to buy a Frappucino. Realizing I’d be home soon and able to make my own, I instead opted for strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone. A large group of younger children came in and cut in front of me to pay. When I did get to the country, the person working wouldn’t let me pay for my ice cream. I demanded he let me pay, I offered to give him five dollars if he’d let me pay. He laughed in my face. I began screaming at him, “GIVE ME MY DAMN ICE CREAM SO I CAN LEAVE!” and such. I was desperate to get home. I ended up stealing the ice cream and heading on home.

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