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The Palestinian Orange One day a friend brought an orange to lunch and said This is a Palestinian orange and my Evil Twin Skippy said “Does it have a travel visa?” (Other people have brains. I have my Evil Twin, Skippy) and she, overseriously, said Of course not. She let me hold it (“As if it were a puppy”) and it felt the same as a California orange, even had the usual California scent, but it was slightly oval, rather than ball-shaped, and I said Where do you grocery shop? Beirut? And she said No, at a Tops in Tonawanda, and Skippy said, “Ah, yes, Tonawanda in the desert of Niagara.” She said No! and then laughed and said You’re joking, and Skippy said, “I’ve never been more serious in my life.” Oh, shut up, Skippy! That ended the conversation
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