plywood babydoll

I love the smell of wood. It reminds me of going to the lumber yard with my Dad when I was a kid. I’d stuff my pockets full of sawdust to take home and throw on my best friends Jeffrey and David that lived next door. They were my constant companions, even though they taped me into a refrigerator box and rolled me down the 17th street hill. When they chased the box down the hill and opened it to reveal BLOOD! One of the staples in the box cut my hand, they felt so bad and got in big trouble. I still had the wad of sawdust in my pocket and bombarded them the next days when they became un-grounded!

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