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Too Late, Trotsky is part blog, part journal, and completely pointless.

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25 August 09

Caller I.D.

At the Meriden Square, (It’s not ‘Westfarms,’ okay? Fuck you.) a couple of my friends and I went to return a stupid sweater and buy gifts for people they know. As soon as I was done in JC Penny’s, we headed over to Spencer’s Gifts, where we started looking around and browsing all the hilarious shit.

Well, while looking on a rack, I found their store phone. It was like the planets aligned and the world was saying, “Holy shit, this calls for serious shenanigans.” I called my cell phone from the store’s phone and then promptly dropped the store phone into a tote bag on the sale rack.

Can you guess what happened next, friends and neighbors? That’s right. I called the phone from my cell. Soon, I could hear the phone ringing and one of the workers going, “where’s the phone? I can hear it…”

I loled all the way past the “Our First Bondage Kits” and “Freddy the Fuck-Off Frogs,” and out of the store.

I guess I have to believe in karma or some kind of fate now, huh? Of course, it was free will that made me actually do all of this. Hm.

Themed by Hunson. Originally by Josh