Where’s Waldo? He’s Ravin’!

In a sea of faces the other night, I finally tracked him down. I found him! Chilling in the back, he was observing the dancing masses. The strobe lights flashed off of his glassy, glistening eyes. His eyes were bigger than his face. “My mouth tastes like hairspray and the crippling emotional uncertainty that my dad must feel,” he seemed to say to himself. As the bass rolled in to the next tune, he announced to his crew, “It’s lit, fam!” He stood up and staggered off, melding back into the dancing throng.

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