Pots And Logic
Pots slowly rose from his hiding spot behind the bush. He didn’t really know his ‘real’ name, and he didn’t know his ‘real’ birthday. He didn’t care, though. He may be homeless, but he had an identity. He called himself Potty, Pots for short. He didn’t know his real birthday, but he said it was March 2nd, simply because it was his favorite day of the year. And for good reason. For all sixteen years of his life (he thought he was sixteen, though wasn’t sure), it had never once rained on his birthday. It might’ve when he was a baby, but as far as Pots was concerned, he was never an infant. He had no memories of being a baby, so logically; he could never have been one.
Pots found a half drank bottle of pop on the ground near him, so he unscrewed the top of the Pepsi and took a large gulp.
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