If I ever write a murder mystery, the victim is going to be a queue jumper. Line cutter. Whatever you call it, it's the same despicable character. There are you are, having waited patiently in an abnormally long Safeway line to buy some pickles and Fresca, when the wind blows in this piece of trash--too much gold, a fake tan, and a black puffy coat
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*grumbles*
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