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Hail to the Bus Driver

When I was in third grade, my school bus driver was named ‘Slice,' and he was the coolest. His hair was blond and spiked, held in place by gravity-resistant gel. In the front seat - where not even the nerdiest of nerds dared sit - he kept a Styrofoam container filled with icepacks and cans of orange Slice soda, which he sold for twenty-five cents, instead of the usual pop machine fifty.
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