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When I was in second grade a little girl wanted to use my smock to wear when she was painting. It was an old shirt of my father's, and my mother had just given it to me that morning to take to school. I did not want some other child to wear it and drip paint on it when I had not had a chance to use it yet. I said no. I really got in trouble by my teacher, but I stood my ground.
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Quiet, mild-mannered souls might just turn out to be roaring lions of two-fisted cool.
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