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I live near a small store

I live near a small store way out in the country close to a hippie com-mune.

They’re good people for the most part, although a bit smelly sometimes.

I was in there one day and a long-haired, scraggly looking fellow came in.

He had a ten-dollar bill in one hand and was undressed as the day he was born, except for one ragged worn-out tennis shoe he had on his right foot.

The clerk, somewhat used to sights such as this, nodded hello, then said, “It looks like you lost a shoe.”

The undressed guy said, “Huh?” The clerk pointed down at the fellow’s feet. “You lost a shoe.”

The hippie slowly moved his bloodshot gaze down towards the floor.

After staring silently at his feet for several seconds, he looked back up and spoke to the clerk.

“No I didn’t. I found one.


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