"[Sugar, Mr. Poon?] is like crack... you know it's bad for you,
you know it's ruining your life, and heck - you don't even really like the
way you feel afterwards most of the time... but you just keep coming
back." --JB
Even though I was their captive, the Indians allowed me quite a bit of freedom. I could walk about freely, make my own meals, and even hurl large rocks at their heads. It was only later that I discovered they were not Indians at all, but dirty clothes hampers.
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