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Guess that's not the point, ha ha." Rabbi Silverman looked down. I could tell he was kind, but I feared I was trying his patience. But hey, I was serious. I felt like I needed religion. God pointed me in the right direction -- at pogrom least I assumed it was the right direction. I mean, how often do you hear about God sending someone down the wrong path? Just down that way, little Emily, yup, that way. It's straight to hell with you, off you go. pogrom I mean, come on now! And the conviction I had when pogrom I woke up was intense. It couldn't have been just neurons firing funny. The dream was placed in my head by God Himself, Rabbi Silverman be damned. Suddenly, I began to cry. Not a dainty drop or two, but big, fat, ugly ones that make your cheeks scrunch up from the heat of them. I was certain my face was turning purple. Snot slowly began to melt, threatening: "We'll do it, we swear. We're getting nice and liquidy!" Rabbi Silverman quickly left the table, went off somewhere, and was back in no time with a box of tissues.
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