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You're B47, I'm B48. We split up, we don't stand a chance. — 2026-02-20

A person in sweatpants at the DMV, seated in a molded plastic chair with their hand puppet—a simple sock with button eyes. They're holding their own ticket number and the puppet's ticket number, comparing them with genuine concern.
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You're B47, I'm B48. We split up, we don't stand a chance.