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No one asked; no one wants to know.
Later, we put him in the truck and told him not to leave the vehicle.
This is where he spent most of Saturday night. Including a trip down the highway.
At one point enroute, he did look up, and his expression seemed to ask, Who am I?
The next morning, I force a Bad Girl Power Drink down him.
By the time we get to the airport, he looks as if he were rode hard and put away wet.
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