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Vinnie, Part I

At 5:40 a.m., my phone rang. I looked at the number and did not recognize it, so I did not answer. The same person called at 6 a.m. Five minutes later, the person called a third time and left a voice message. I listened to the message: after a few moments of silence, a scratchy, disturbingly bass voice said, "Yo, Vinnie, I've got your weed." When the person called a fourth time, I explained that I was not Vinnie, and that though I had a Maine phone number, I actually now live in Arizona, meaning his phone calls were coming rather early in the morning. He apologized. After sighing loudly, he asked if I knew how to find Vinnie.

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