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One of my teachers had a son who was also a punk. A really hardcore punk.
One evening there was a near-riot at a Misfits show and he got hit over
the head with a guitar and had to go to the hospital. The next morning, his mom came in late to class, looking like hell and muttering something about having had a bad night. "Yeah, you look like it," I said. I meant it to be empathetic, but it came out sounding just mean.
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