Word: cartone
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...naked one he meant, had any hair in her ass hole and everybody laughed at that and Chuck got mad. Tom said, OK let's see the suitcase and they opened it up and there were six pairs of socks, a toothbrush, three sets of underwear brand new, a carton of Kools, another pair of jeans and some deodorant and shaving cream. Tom said he had a suitcase and there wasn't anything in this one that he wanted...
...government. His face was red and full, topped by short white hair. His first name was Roscoe, but he very much preferred "R.C." so of course we called him "Arsey." He was continually sucking the life out of a stubby Raleigh--it seemed like he smoked a carton...
Sand-colored five-ton Egyptian trucks with relief supplies from Cairo for the Third Army lumbered past Kilometer 101 into Israeli-held territory in the direction of the city of Suez. The drivers were U.N. noncommissioned officers. About ten miles north of Suez, a truck with cartons of food and cigarettes had arrived at U.N. observation post Kilo-a collection of whitewashed shacks on the edge of the canal. There we talked with Vienna-born Joseph Nekhan, 27, a first lieutenant in an Austrian tank battalion who had been seconded to the U.N. Emergency Force. Below him, Egyptian soldiers...
...time though it is, JGE sticks stubbornly to small-time style. Its "showroom" is a small, carton-crammed section of a warehouse in a sidestreet in Bayside, Queens. All sales are for cash. Except for the Rosenbergs, who sometimes help unload trucks, only part-time employees mind the store. They include moonlighting policemen, housewives and four or five high school basketball players from the Friends' Academy in Locust Valley, N.Y. Clerks make no effort to push a particular brand or persuade customers to buy a higher-priced item; they simply take orders. Yet JGE turns over $300,000 worth...
...Well, last night was an exception. The cardboard carton corrugating unit blew out and we had to call the gang in from the license plate division to bail us out. Unfortunately, they had other ideas and held us hostage under threat of feeding us to Mr. Confetti--the newspaper shredding and bailing machine. In fact, I'd say that at that time I'd have given us about as much chance of gettin' out on the water by 9 p.m. as most people gave us at the Sprints last year, if you know what I mean...