(Chapter one)

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Just a reminder that this is satire! 😍

Wallace woke up to his alarm clock terrorizing his ears. He sat up and turned off the blaring noise then rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes.😵‍💫 He put on his stinky uniform and his *most likely unwashed* socks. Waddling into the kitchen, Wally stood up on his tippy toes to reach the high shelf of the cabinet.
I wish I could find a hot man to reach these damn shelves. He thought to himself.
Wallace walked out to his absolute piece of shit for a car, his 1976 Ford Pinto Squire.

Wallace walked out to his absolute piece of shit for a car, his 1976 Ford Pinto Squire

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The motor for the rust bucket began to screech and he was off to town.

*at the coffee shop*

Wally sat at the counter bored, the amount of customers the little shop got daily could be counted on two hands and he always wondered why he didn't try to make something more of himself. He was extremely talented in arts, both digital and traditional. He made the logo for the shop and most of the art work on the walls, and yet he was still stuck behind the counter, wondering what it's like to be the customer on the other side, what it's like to be served rather than the server. He attempted to enter his work into competitions and or apply his art into schools but nothing was ever accepted. He just assumed that he would forever be a totally lame coffee shop manager.

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 18, 2022 ⏰

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