Put that punk in the ring!
The crowd wouldn't listen. No hands could reach him. The crowd just surged over and past him, moving like a wave in the middle of the ocean. I don't know that anybody knew where he actually was. All I know is that the crowd was hot and was slow to disburse. When the rage was finally replaced with curiosity, and the numbers began to dwindle, they all moved back away from the mass of pulp that had been under their feet. There in the middle of the intersection, like a piece of bubblegum on the asphalt, lay the president, some of him stuck on the bottom of people's shoes.
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