We're nervous, cribbing at our stall, confused by it all - often, nowadays, there's an evil uncle. That explains it. Jackie and I are sent to live in the boat house and sleep each night on the knotted old ropes and when we go to town then they point at us and laugh look at those nieces - it's a miserable life for nieces! Chrissy and I have to stay in the garage and sleep on old Castral GT bottles and if we push our cart in the pep boys parking lot they point at us and laugh - look at those nieces! It's a miserable life for nieces! Dana and I are stuck up sweating in the attic, fanning ourselves and scraping ourselves in the process with blue foam fiberglass and when we go wilted down the carpet sample outlet center they point at us and laugh look at those nieces, it's a miserable life for nieces. Sammy and me live in a tent down by the dumpster and are getting epm from the possums I swear it and when we go to the vets to get our frontier and teeth clean chew toys they look at us and smirk. Here come those nieces. Isn't a miserable life for nieces? Could there be a reason? There might be a reason: Daddy always said he was better at spelling and playing the mandolin: And when they played war it was tens against twos and he'd always win. Jealousy forever. And we pay the price as he takes his revenge. But I don't think so. It's just a miserable life for nieces. Simple as that. Finally we were sent to attend as students and live as borders at PS 213 Mini-school And people would see us walk up and down Linden Blvd. in the rain on their way back from the airport and say: Look at those nieces! It's a miserable life for nieces.
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