The Dove

I figure right about now the Hutton “Dove” (not its real name) is groaning. I am pulling out after 36 long years that ive been trapped in the rubble. Someone (who shall remain nameless) declined to get oil for the heater and the pipes burst. It must have cost all of our small endowment to fix it.

So right about now i am seeing that my roommate–who i hired to help me–at last stood up to say that the emperor wasnt wearing any clothes.

I can die now.

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