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Fortune Cookies



It's midnight.  The old man is awake, nervously pacing the floor, as his
20-year-old son comes in.

	"Whatta you mean?  You staya out alla night, you runna around widda
bums.  Whatta you trying to do?"
	"Papa, don't talk like that," replies the boy.
	"Who-a you, tella me notta talka like that?  You no work, you
chase-a bad women, whatta become of you?"
	"Papa, *please* don't talk like that."
	"Don'ta talka like that?  Whatta you mean?  Why shouldn't I talka
likka that?"
	"Papa, we're not Italian."


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