Oh, you don't want me here, either, now do you?

Then leave, he tells the bartender.

We're each now at over a dozen, and on a Wednesday night (a Thursday morning?), no less; I am trying to stifle my laughter and barely succeeding.

The doors are wide open, he shouts. Here, I'll call you a cab. It's already ringing. Yes, I'm on the corner of Crime and Punishment. No, no, don't worry. Hell, I'll pay for the goddamn cab. I mean, you want to leave, don't you? The exit is right there. Step through. No? No? Now you want to stay?

Oh, we are but children, Rémi bellows as he is dragged out, and I follow behind. Hopscotch, kickball, four-square, and recess is over.

He yells, you want a gold star? Then fucking earn it!
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