The Tea Party, with membership rapidly declining, was coming up with clever ways of finding new people who wanted something for free that was also cheesy.
Peter stared at yet another reminder of his ex-girlfriend, she too had an official entry form.
Sasha was stumped because he knew the berries were grown locally, but what about the synthetic cheese?
It was a marriage made in hell, and there could be no real winners.
He had a problem, he knew that, but every time he walked past a sweepstakes box he borrowed some of the ballots just to see where his new friends lived.
That’s when I realized that, like an idiot, I had been using unofficial entry forms, which explained the crayon, crude printing and misspellings.
A new low for fusion cuisine – boysenberry pizza pie.
The entry date had come and gone, but the sweepstakes box sat, as yet untouched, unguarded, and inviting her handful of ballots.
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