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Pinatas

 I'm like the pinata. I get invited to all the parties. Birthdays, they remember me occasionally, once a year, and want me to spend my day for them. I get hit and money spills out my guts, but I have no way to stop it from coming out. They bat at me as I hang from the ceiling, scrabbling for the final hit. I have been giving my entire life, and now I give it all. They tear themselves to pieces as they Scrabble for my will, which simply says: my riches go to whoever that takes this paper first.

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