But I'll allow it, because of the time I was reading Breakfast of Champions at the mid-station of the Transmobile and Al, the Manager on Duty, threatened to throw the book in the Mini Golf pond if he caught me reading at my post again.
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I read Slaughterhouse Five while "working" at the mini-golf. The Park, in all its absurdity, was a perfect place to read Vonnegut.
Now he's gone. So it goes.
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