I, in strange, theatrical madness cursed her for her lack of love profession, for loving my face, my hair, my strong, powerful body, but not that crud... disgusting thing lurking in my pants. That silent, grotesque lump of God-given clay yet to be molded, for all hope, to die in the dust with the humming of the cortex, those strange fibers of consciousness wrestling angsty teenage love, my sweet Kimberly… she’d dated someone I’d thought my friend. Society’s law kept me from killing him. I would. Since it seemed a too strong I decided to had half a case more of the mix. When I finished I had a little more than 3 gallons of punch.Next I emptied three and a half cases of the 8 oz water bottles into a 5 gallon bucket and added a lid to keep it clean. I repacked the bottles with the punch. I had seventy eight 8 oz bottle of the drink and about an ounce left in the water jug. I packed the bottles back into the cases from wince they came.Half way through the repackaging process camera crew. More

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