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We Moved Out to the Country To Eat Free Peaches and It Turns Out a Lot of Peach Farmers Have Guns and the Peaches Aren’t Free

Having grown discontent with the drudgery of modern-day life we decided to move out to the country to eat a lot of peaches. And yes while there were millions of peaches present, as the farmer’s shotgun informed me, they were never free or for me.

Those peaches were put there by a man, and that man had clearly killed before, and I was terrified.

Stealing said peaches were apparently against the law and I found myself soon evading the 5-0 in some sort of Dukes of Hazard-style chase.

With the country no longer being a viable option, I tried going to the factory downtown to get some peaches. Naturally, I preferred fresh peaches but I’ll take canned ones if available. Pie is my favorite way to eat them. Except those bastards wouldn’t let me in because of some bullshit about ‘employees only’. When I, an able-bodied man, offered to put them into cans, they rejected my application. It turns out they’d been tipped off about a wanted peach thief and I found myself running again.

I sat alone in a buggy marsh, day after day waiting for the heat to cool off, but the law caught up with me eventually.

I’d say we need to impeach the PsOTUS if they hadn’t broken up already. Now if I had my little way, I would sue them everyday, for enough money to actually support my dream of eating peaches in the shade amongst the twisted roots of my favorite tree. Instead, I got a cop poking his finger up inside my butthole during this cavity search to make sure I’m not hiding any peaches up there. Nature’s candy in my butt.

My love of peaches has now gone completely rotten and I feel squished by the system. Hopefully once I get out of jail though I can start a fresh new life in a land of opportunity. I was thinking about Cleveland because I heard a song once telling me Cleveland rocks.