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The game of foosball is completed.
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You're free to return
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to your undoubtedly hearing-impaired families.
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Tell you what, we'll stop playing,
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if you can score a point on us.
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Tempting, but then wouldn't I be playing foosball?
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And, if so, how would I not be a loud, weird knob?
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Free shot.
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I'm not even touching the foosenschaften.
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Sorry, luftballons. I'm above it.
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I wish there was a word to describe
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the pleasure I feel at viewing misfortune.