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... diate from every greasy inch of the giggling menace, rising and spreading from under his nauseating fedora. The anime girl on his XXXXXXXL T Shirt looked like she was crying, the death she prayed for not coming fast enough.

Most of us had, by silent agreement, pushed ourselves to the far ends of the car. Not all of us. One guy was sitting directly in front of the worst thing to happen to Japan since Jake Paul, staring him down like a half ton of wagyu. They were kindred spirits. One guy ...

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