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pennsylvania 2:2
The kids went in to shoplift or something - they weren't my kids. I said this to the caged woman.
Thanks for the offer, she said, but this isn't a bad gig, only an hour from Philly, benefits, pretty good tips,
you'd be surprised. When do you get off, I mean out? I asked, thinking what I don't know. They weren't
my kids, but they'd ruin a dinner date just the same. You're sweet, but I'm married, you see, said the woman.
Your husband run this place? He does, she said. So he's the one has you in this cage. We get people from all
around, she said, you think it's the parrot? And it's not even locked. So I see, I said. I opened the door. Don't
do that, she said, clanging the door shut again, Billy doesn't like it for the door to be open, gives people the wrong idea.
That you can get out, you mean? I can get out, she said. Where would you go, I said, if you got out, where would you
want to go? Sailing, she said. The kids came out with nothing in their hands, evidence but not proof of their not
having acquired anything. Bye Mandy, said Jack, bye Pickle. Eat me, I thought I heard the parrot say, eat a Pickle.
People were coming from all around as we left.
move on...
other roads...
Back Up...
other roads: