The neighbors are burning their trash....again. This time it's a little too close to my tukal's thatch roof for comfort. There's nothing like a big, roaring bonfire of discarded plastic a mere six feet away from a structure made entirely of mud and grass that contains all the clean underwear and the one spare pair of pants you currently own to unsettle a person. Besides, isn't their house just made of grass? What the heck? Where is the fire marshal when you need him? Oh right. Better move my pants.
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