We all sat together, inebriated on cheese and cheap wine, flipping through the DVDs trying to find something that would signify the closing of the year. We gave up and selected the one that all of us had memorized, providing a soundtrack to our final celebration. All of us, actors, painters, producers, and writers, watched the minutes go by, bracing ourselves for the tomorrow that held our hopes and fears. Each of us at that moment wanted this year to be -the- year, and the television uttered a single line as the clock struck midnight.
"The hammer is my penis."
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