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United States
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Then - another idea. What if he could remove his ribs?
Bobi hurried to the garage - he knew just what to do. He plugged in the cord to the table saw, and got to work.
Painfully, he managed to create a slit large enough to begin the extraction. Downing a fifth of peanut butter whiskey, he sawed until he felt the gray-white ribs give way.
He had done it. And with one final lean, he managed to do what others had called impossible. It was at this moment Bobi realized, the table saw had gone too far, as he felt the stinging of the peanut butter whiskey dripping down his groin region. His stomach was irreparable.
He now may be able to suck his own penis, but of what use is it to him without his one true love, the bottle.
The group froze. Bobi stood there, his face turning bright red, as he realized the bat had somehow wedged itself awkwardly. โUh, guysโฆโ he said, trying to stay calm. His friends burst into laughter, but Bobi couldnโt help but giggle too, despite the ridiculous situation.
After a few minutes of careful maneuvering and a lot of laughs, the bat finally came free. Bobi, slightly embarrassed but victorious, gave a sheepish thumbs-up. โI guess Iโm just really committed to my role as a slugger,โ he said, as the giggles continued.
One morning, as he stared at his hands, something caught his eyeโhis thumbs. The half moonsโthe small, white crescents at the base of his nailsโwere gone. A subtle, yet stark symbol of his bodyโs decline. Theyโd disappeared over time, like everything else heโd lost.
Bobiโs world had shrunk. No more late nights or careless drinking. Just the quiet hum of reality settling in. The loss of the half moons was a reminder of all he had taken for granted. But now, with only fragments of his past self, Bobi faced the hardest battle: to rebuild what had been destroyed, one small step at a time.
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