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Weekly Contest #300
I couldn’t believe what I had done. No one thought that I would actually go through with it, but I did. For the past four hours, and sixteen minutes, I’d been sitting on a cold Greyhound bus, listening to the ghostly, devilish voices of my so-called friends, and even my miscreant of a cousin Henry echo through my head, chiding me for not doing some stupid act of initiation in order to become a member of their underground gang that they call The Pride. They actually expected me to one-up the misdeed of the last pledgee, a ruffian from West St...
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