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Gold bar in a trash bag : MurderedByWords

Gold bar in a trash bag : MurderedByWords

Easy. I steal the trash bag and open it. What do I take, you ask ? Not the gold bar. I go for the credit card receipts. Most valuable item in the bag. I learn that the card belongs to mr McDonald. Ronald McDonald. Suddenly, I see him in the window, he’s telling me to come in. I refuse. We make love all night. In the morning, I escape in one of his costumes.

I tell him to meet me in Roma. I go to Russia. I don’t trust him. Besides, I like communism and mild dictatorship.

Thirty years later, I get a phone call. Guess who it is. I have a daughter now, and she’s the mascot of a concurrent fast food joint. I tell him to meet me at the foot of the Statue of Liberty. He’s been thinking about me for all these years. He’s never taken another love. I don’t care. I don’t show up. I goto China. This is where I stashed the receipts.