"Mahal, it's ready nah," Fe is calling from the kitchen.
Well, so much for the anecdote about the use of credit cards and other cards and tricks like dropping coins on the floor or even going so far as Fat Marvin in Porat who has a couple of debit cards and allegiance cards that he knows are expired but whips them out along the way when he is fucking with the people he and everyone else around here call the "crowder-inners."
Another of those weird Urban Myths or Vampire Storytelling maybe?
The more you crowd in and crowd in and crowd in and push in and shove in and cram in and wish you add a whole big quart of anal fucking lube so you could slather yourself in that and squirm your ignorant stupid self even closer to whatever goal lies tantalizingly out of your grasp for the moment but if only you can s-h-o-v-e your way THAT MUCH CLOSER everything will work out perfectly for everybody we will all be caught up in a giant heaving ball of suet, right?
Who thinks 'a this shit, anyway?
What brain-dead Urban Myth makes people think that if they shove in and shove in that much closer and closer till they are breathing garlic chicken sauce on your forearm will make the line move any faster?
Gotta go watch Hell's Kitchen now.
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