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Advice
from Helena Aunde-Bague
I do not know why I write these things. But my friends, they tell me "Helena,
you should write the stories. You have much to say about other people."
So I like to know
what my neighbour he says about my driveway. He is too fat anyhow, and
his pants they are always showing too much smile from the back. I think
he should not talk about my driveway with that big ass.
His wife, Elaine,
I am worrying about. She is working always at the plant. She should leave
her fat man. She brings home the money so he can fill his pants with more
grape soda. It is wrong.
"Elaine,"
I would tell her, "you should put your money in the toolbox where
he never looks. Then, when he is asleep from watching too much of the
football, you take your toolbox and live in an apartment."
Elaine, your apartment
would be so nice. The money that fatty would buy on his sodas, you could
buy so many nice things.
But, my sister
Louella, she says not to "butt my cute nose in their business."
And so Elaine must live with my silence. She will make many fat kids,
and never know the nice things she could buy.

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