The Saturday Fry
The fryer sat on a milk crate in Frank O'Brien's driveway, next to the rusted lawnmower and the stack of empty beer cases he hadn't gotten around to recycling. It was a second-hand commercial model he'd bought from a guy at the hardware store for forty dollars, and it worked most of the time. When it didn't work, Frank didn't have the patience to fix it. He just waited. He set up every Saturday...
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