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she tells could have happened, but I don't have any solid evidence one way or
the other. I'm inclined to suspect that Tomono Asada at least partly made it up for
my entertainment. I suspect Deb would have handled this situation a lot
better in real life.
This is the story as Deb tells it (albeit, with my title).
Hot Pizza
It had been a long day. It seemed like everybody in town was having a
party to celebrate the beginning of spring break. The only thing that saved
me from utter exhaustion was that most of the frat types were in Florida
already, so I just had to deal with the ones who couldn't afford the trip.
I'd been pedalling all over town, dropping off half a dozen with pepperoni
here, ten with everything there, and seven mushroom and olive everywhere else
(Ick. I hate mushrooms and olives). By the time I got to the last delivery
before my shift ended, I was beat. I was also freezing, since it was one of
those god-awful spring days that make you think the seasons have gone back to
winter to try again. When I saw it was clouding up, I was really pissed.
Sure enough, halfway up the hill to Frat Row, the rain
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