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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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"Goin' good, Fiyori. And how 'bout no, Darius, and take a chill, man. Nobody likes a guy who has no chill."

Jerry craned his neck to make sure Jeremy wasn't about to hit him with a book or stab him in the back or whatever outlandish affronts Jerry's mind could cook up about Jeremy's mind cooking up. Dude was pulling his notebook back towards him and adjusting it or something.

Huh, is that what I was sitting on? I THOUGHT something was jabbing me right in the ass.

"Sorry fam," Jerry threw back quickly and quietly at Jeremy before scooting onto his side, laying as though Leonardo DiCaprio were about to paint him like one of his French girls. "Aaaaaanyway, Dick Van Dyke," Jerry addressed Darius. Did everybody call him that? If not, they really should. It was so easy a nickname, right there dangling in front of their faces. He prayed Darius could do a shitty Cockney accent. "Whatchoo got everybody assembled for? And why wasn't I invited? And why didn't you offer ME any gum, damn it?" Jerry asked, mocking offense.
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