"How much is a Dr. P and a pretzel... heavy on salt...?" asks the five foot eight duster, who has as much fashion sense as Adam Sandler, leaning across on the concessions stands counter. "Nelson, it costs the same as it cost yesterday, and the day before that." I scowl restocking the Airhead supply, before tucking a loose strand of my blonde hair back behind my ear. " Put on my tab BP. " winks the broke regular leaning further across the wooden counter. " Again nice try Nelson, but that would be a whopping seven dollar total." I continue in suit. "Brynn Peterson, I sware to God I don't know what I would do with our my daily Dr. Pepper and pretzel. I- I just... don't know...what might happen to me...," sniffled the lopsidedly fluffy hair styled brunette, feigning the sniffle and laying it hard on the puppy dog eyes. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Zane...I think your gonna make it." I say sarcastically earnest, reaching across the counter and gives his arm a squeeze of encouragemen
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