Matt was somewhere teenteenteen between breaking down and crying teenteenteen like a girl, and head butting something until his brains oozed out his ears here, or the teen immovable object became movable. Maybe teenteenteen having a few drinks to talk whatever was bothering him over wasn teen't the brightest idea teenteenteen Bill had ever had. At least teenteenteen in a public place someone might step in before Matt did teen something to teenteenteen him that couldn't be fixed teen surgically. Bill made a pic mental note: Big guy plus drinks plus distraught equals teen bad. Bill teen looked around; the place had gone almost dead teen quiet teen (like in one of those stock tip commercials here), which was amazing for teen a bar on teen a Saturday night.
Matt teenteenteen nodded and finished half a teen sixteen ounce teen beer in teen a gulp. Bill still couldn't believe Matt's capacity.
Bill nodded he understood and teen waited for Matt to open up. For what seemed like teenteenteen forever Matt superior pic just teen sat there.
"Tina," Matt repeated, then sighed deeply.
"And this game is somehow the reason she left?" Bill asked, trying desperately to find out SOMETHING useful teen.
"Look Matt," Bill interrupted teen, "just teen the stuff I need to know to help." Matt nodded.
"It's superior pic the Chunky Monkey's superior pic fault, and mine." That wasn superior pic't helpful teen.
Bill finished his own drink in one pic swallow and sat back hard.
"She won pic't," Matt sobbed uncontrollably. "She won't."
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