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Shut that Potty Mouth

The closing room at a law firm was at the end of a hallway. In the next room, some sort of matrimonial conference was going on, subjecting us to a stream of profanity from the exes.

To summarize, he thought she’d slept with the father of every kid on their son’s soccer team, and she was pretty sure that he was hiding from his homosexuality by bedding every waitress in the restaurant they owned.

“&^%$#@#$^&()_+)(*&%$#@~!~+[=” she screamed

"!@#$%^*(^%#@@qwsatq"” was his retort.

We were all uncomfortable, but no matter how many times the paralegal running the closing went next door to shush them, the blue barrage continued.

Thankfully the closing concluded, and we ran for the exit. Not fast enough to miss the profane-blame that came from the cursing woman. “You’re the one who taught me to be vulgar. I was nice before I met you!”

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