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Court Ordered 100 Hours Bob, my sponsor, he tells me, Where ever you go, there you are. I say, My feet dictate my presence. Bob, he says, You've been given a second chance. You know, He works in mysterious ways. I mumble, "He" was the Justice of the Peace, and there is nothing "mysterious" about court orders. Bob goes on, You'll know, man you'll know when you hit your bottom. Just remember, you can call me when that happens. I laugh, Bob, when I do hit my bottom, I'll be too fucked-up to remember anything. Bob, attempting to restore order, So, I see you broke your ankle this because you were drunk. I reply, At least I wasn't driving this time. Bob dryly, Drunk driving kills. I smile, Not so, it only fucked-up my nose and telephone pole last time. Bob growls, That's not funny. I say, Get used to it. 99 more hours to go.
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