By Pam Rosenberg,Bob Ostrom
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Extra resources for Gross-Out Jokes
He got back at me in other ways, though. Sneaky ways. Like kicking me at night so it was hard to go to sleep. He called me names like pig-face and dirt-brain. I tried to insult him back but my words didn’t have as much power as his. He knew he was worth more than me. We both knew it. I was afraid to throw rocks but I couldn’t let him see that. And I couldn’t let his friends see that I was scared. If they did, they would be on me faster than a goat on garbage. I walked quickly into the middle of the pack and picked up a rock.
Shoemakers relit the flames under their pots of glue and started tapping away at their heels. Street dogs shook the rain out of their fur and sniffed around. People folded up their umbrellas and kept on rushing. “Namaste,” I said, pointing my hands together as best I could when they were full of soap. The family did the same, even the youngest. I held out the bottle of soap and the soap that was wrapped in paper. At first they shook their heads. They didn’t understand. They smiled and spoke in a language I didn’t know.
I just needed to borrow. Somehow, that seemed a whole lot easier. So that became my job. To borrow what I needed. Then to pass it on to someone who needed it more. It worked. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. I ate. I slept. I lived. 5 Dead Englishmen SOMEONE WAS BEATING UP Santa Claus. I was trying to sleep down the street from the Chinese restaurant where the Santa statue usually stood, but the crash of the plastic Santa on the sidewalk woke me up. Two young men were laughing and talking loudly in English as they kicked the statue between them like a football.