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The Time I Was Cursed
Once I was walking through the streets of Toronto, half drunk, nearly three-quarters drunk. I’ve never had a good time in Toronto. Something always goes wrong.
Walking down the road, nearly three-quarters drunk, I saw a homeless man sitting on a stoop. He had a glass jar full of loonies and toonies, (Canadian money is stupid and also named by Dr. Seuss) and was holding a small fishing pole. He was pretending to fish for the money in the jar and calling out to passersby for change.
I walked by him and he asked me for money. I told him loudly and three-quarters-drunkenly that it was a trap, and that I knew it was a trap. If I gave him money something bad would happen to me, something real bad because it was a trap. Plus I said it was stupid that he was trying to fish for money that is all coins.
He looked at me for a moment and pointed, alerting the people around us, “You’re a real bad guy!”, he said. “He’s a Bad, Bad guy.” Suddenly I felt a little guilty, but I shook it off. I kind of am a Bad Guy. I smiled. I was a Bad Guy. Finally I was a real Bad Guy.
Anyway I’ve never had a good time in Toronto.

