A Bank Incident That Wasn’t A Heist

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At the risk of spreading blind bankism, all banks are financial institutions.

As good old Charlie Braun, the elderly bank guard, escorted the vagrant away, he, not the bank guard, who recently earned a certificate for 25 years of excellence on the job, nor the old man with his blue velvet bag with the golden drawstring converting coins to dollars, but the vagrant, shook off the padded trench coat and removed the long grizzled gray beard covering his face.

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Incident At The Speedway

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Did you know Speedway® was ranked the 4th worst company to work for in the U.S. in 2018.

Rosemary Underhill sneered. She was angry; her face was burning red. Her cap was floating inches above her head from the rising steam. It turns out her credit card was declined. “You are a little little pissant.” She over-enunciated the ‘p’ and spit.

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A Sensible Awakening

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Surfing the internet is no longer just a pastime, it is a dangerous pastime. Trust me, you. In the same way drive by shootings has changed the rules of pedestrian safety, you could be at risk.

While eating a ham and swiss on rye with a splotch of mustard, surfing the internet on his laptop, Bruce Keys stumbled upon a website he had never seen before. It was uncanny. It did not take long to realize he had discovered the Multi-Verse.com homepage.

It had the identical layout as YouTube®, but this was quite different. Each rectangle contained live-streaming content of what was happening everywhere and everywhen throughout many different alternate realities.

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Music Soothes The Soul And The Savage Beast

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There’s an old joke about a ten inch pianist and the confusion that ensues because everyone else is thinking ten inch penis. You have to be there.

Bromo Seltzeroff sat behind the eggshell white grand piano and looked out at the audience. He thought, this is what a sold out show looks like. He was about to perform Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer,” known to some as the theme song to the Academy Award winner for Best Picture, “The Sting,” or to some, as that ditty played out of the crappy speakers of an ice cream truck. As far as Bromo was concerned, it was never about the fame, it was more about the money.

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