Well, I was born on a heat rack in the Pretzlemaker Factory. I was Salted with a pinch of Butter. There I sat, until the day I was thrown into a dumpster. I got my own place and spent my time and money in sports and video games. I bought an orphanage for all the abandoned pretzles in the world, only one ever showed up... So here I sit, paying the bills for the box I own (I call it my house) and the Banana I drive to and from the Video Game centers. It is not a hard life, unless I am chased by hungray hobos, which only happens every so often... So, would you like a Pretzle?
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