There Mr. Mailman goes delivering letters from porch to porch along a block of row homes. He's got his rhythm. He's gliding from mailbox to mailbox. He spins. He swoops. It's a postal ballet. But rest assured, as graceful as I may appear to be sometimes, I never am. You can bet the bank on any given day that I managed to smack my little "male-men"
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See ya tonight at Hitchhikers. Don't forget to bring your towel.
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