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So I took him out of the box and I laid him on the table
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and I prayed my heart out
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for several hours.
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And when my mother came home and found us,
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she screamed bloody murder.
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She picked him up and threw him in the garbage.
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She worked hard, my mother.
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She was exhausted, and she couldn't have known how cruel that was.
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But I cried and cried, saying,
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"God didn't answer my prayers!"
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I remember...
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my mother was pouring herself a whiskey;