What is this world coming to? Little old Marash Girl walked up to the end of her short dead end street to ask a construction worker (one with no company name on his truck) if he would please move his vehicle from in front of her front porch, the porch on which Marash Girl sits and knits in the sun every afternoon that she has a chance. She asked as sweetly as she knew how. His answer, without hesitation: "I'm not movin' the truck!"
What is our world coming to?
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