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to work exploded and burned for the third or fourth time, I thought Why the hell am I here? Everybody's always dying of cancer and now the frickin lunchroom's gone, too So I just up and quit and rode with Satan's Slaves for a while. But after Tiny, the meth freak, found out he had the HIV, he lost it one day and was running around jabbing people with his blood-filled rig. Well, I don't like being poked with a bloody needle any more than nobody else, and so when the inevitable fracas started there I was in the middle of it with everybody when the po-po arrived. Tiny wasn't looking so good, and I got five to ten for mayhem. Don't go there if you don't have to: I barely lasted two before I figured my way one night and got a job in the virus research lab, and so I got my visits to Doc covered whenever he needed cut out those some more of those pesky little tumors and check my HIV status. Well, a few days ago, Doc says I think I may have some bad news: that looks like leprosy. I got all depressed and went back to the lab and helped get a couple of loose monkeys in their cages and then they started hemorrhaging and died of Ebola. So I thought, No more of this shit! I may as well move to Argentina. I thought I'd just sneak my plastic zipgun -- made it myself -- shoots great -- I thought I'd just sneak it past security and hijack a local puddlejumper -- but the hunkajunk crashes. Dunno. I'm kinda pissed off right now.
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