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Pickles.

You bastard.

You utter wanker.

I knew it. I KNEW it.

From the very moment I walked into the my very first audition, I could see it in your eyes.

Envy.

Oh, you'd had your little spot of success on your own with your little beat combo. But inhaled the unmistakable stench of my talent, my effortless confidence, and it terrified you.

I knew at some point your inferiority complex would come squirming out into the light. And so I read today, in the vulgar music broadsheets no less, that you're giving me the sack. Didn't have the stones to tell me to my face, did you? Well the laugh's on you, mate. Your worst fears are about to be realized. I'll outshine you as a solo act. Just you wait.

Morrie Memento

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