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The World Series of Pain by Tommy Angelo

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"How could you forget your swimsuit?" said the big-bellied bald guy to his portly wife. We three and sixty others were lined up to board Southwest Airlines flight 1691, bound for Las Vegas, Nevada, the true center of the known universe, despite what Neil Degrasse Tyson says.

The husband's question made the wife tilt, and then she said something back that made the husband tilt. Meanwhile, the 6'7" guy ahead of me was getting into it with the frizzy-headed boarding-pass collector, and that hold-up was causing the guy behind me to rant out loud, even though he was about to get into a tube that will land in Vegas when it lands in Vegas, no matter what he says or feels.

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