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Trail MixImagine, the plane has gone down and we're lost in the desert. There's no food except for the dead passengers and a container of trail mix. The passengers soiled themselves during the crash, leaving them inedible and shitty. We try to make our way back to civilization, and along the way we try to ration the trail mix. You wake up the next morning to find only peanuts left. "What the fuck, Brad," you say to me, who is Brad. There's remnants of what were once melting M&M's and chocolate chips smudged around my mouth. "I'm sorry," I manage to mutter through the tears as my addiction becomes apparent. They drop on the ground and sizzle away in the sun's heat, like a chicken named "Hope" in a frying pan. As we continue our journey, you dig through the desolation that is peanuts, expecting only disappointment, but alas! You find a pair of raisins, stuck together, like two chickens named "Hope" in a frying pan. You raise them to your cracking lips, and eat them, savoring their sweet fl
British PetroleumWaves turn sand to mudOil washed away like darknessThat sad, long lost mess