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unlikely throne

paul slowly pushed his footstool across the kitchen. slide, slide, screech.

cam: it would be faster, paul, if you just picked it up and carried it.
paul: [thinking] whatever.

he pushed it up against a big black bag full of trash that cam was going to take to the trashcan in the garage. solemnly he stepped up onto the footstool and slowly turned around. one hand in cam's hand, the other in my mother's hand, he then proceeded to sit on the trash. silly boy.

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