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anon
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Autoplay OFF  •  8 months ago
Listen up babes, I have a story for you. So I’m in my room chillin and my mom calls me and tells me my dad wants my help in the yard. I’m like ok sure. She says that it’ll probably only be a minute and that she wanted me to put on shorts bc it’s hot out.
By danahatesyou2 https://danahatesyou2.tum...

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by danahatesyou2

Listen up babes, I have a story for you. So I’m in my room chillin and my mom calls me and tells me my dad wants my help in the yard. I’m like ok sure.

She says that it’ll probably only be a minute and that she wanted me to put on shorts bc it’s hot out.

So I change into the first pair of shorts I find, which happen to be the smallest pair I got, and I slip on some flip flops and I go outside.

My dad calls me over next to this giant ass pile of wood we have and he’s sitting next to this machine.

He says that what I have to do, is grab logs from the pile, bring them over to him, wait for him to split them with the machine, pick up the pieces,

put them in wheelbarrow and then bring them over to the shed and dump them, where later, I would stack them up. I’m like,,,,tf yo that’s a lot but ok.

The machine he’s using consists of just setting the log onto it, and pressing a button, that’s it. After a good fifteen minutes, i go and grab another log. But I fall bc I’m a dumbass.

I trip on a rock with my fuckin flip flop and scrape my arm leg and hands real bad.

I’m like fuck that hurt and my dad didn’t even see anything bc he’s working so hard to press that button ok. I get up, blood everywhere, my hands are burning, but I gotta carry on.

From then on I pick up the logs one by one with my fingertips bc I don’t want to get any bugs or wood in my scrape.

I’m standing there, I can feel the skin on my arm just flapping in the nice afternoon breeze and I notice the wheel barrow is full.

Let me tell you, you can’t move a giant ass wheel barrow with your finger tips ok. So I grab onto those handles like a WOMAN and get through it.

After like fourty seconds of agony I dump the wood by the shed and make my way back. This process repeats a billion times and we haven’t even gotten half of the wood done.

After another trip to the shed, out of breath, my hands covered in blood I ask, “are we splitting all of this wood?”

Sitting on the ground, just pressing a fucking button, my dad replies, “I don’t know, we will stop when I’m tired”

Moral of the story, don’t do yard work

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