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Story No. 30497
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Once I went to Burma and I found a man wearing a turban, selling me fresh fruit...
from a shabby handcart. Repulsed by such a peasant, I took hold of my trusty
old baseballbat and swung at the
school principal. "How dare he critised my skill, damn it...he deserve to go to hell!!!"
Having said that, the speaker stomped off in a holy haze, without looking at
the starlit sky. I couldn't help from thinking of that night when she asked me for forgiveness, and waited for me to day: "I forgive you"....I left the room without a word, leaving her crying in agony and pain.
