My wallet went missing this morning.
Fear strangled me. Where could I put it? What might have happened?
I thought of calling the bank for fear that someone might use my debit card to buy a plain ticket to Timbuktu. Maybe a terrorist had taken my wallet and was buying tickets for a one way ticket, a one way ticket to ten virginal browned eyed beauties, with luscious, buoyant tit-ties. I needed to contact TSA as soon as possible!!! Where did I place that number? What if someone stole my identity? And my name was now linked with some porn addict
I prayed to my wallet angel who had always kept my wallet safe, even that one night when the wallet laid exposed in the back alley in Denver, Colorado.
Angrily, I tore up my house attempting to find my extraordinary normal brown wallet. I found the wallet in the last place I looked, right behind a leg of the leather coach. Nothing is more securing than a wallet jammed in your back right pocket, of your worn out blue jeans.
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