Why is Pauly Shore in my head?

Another writing exercise I just did for a class: “Write a single sentence of at least one page (300 words) in length.” I hope everything makes sense and is grammatically correct! And if not, I’m chalking it up to stylistic choice. Here it goes:



Some folks might say that he didn’t belong on a farm (perhaps something to do with the way he dressed, as he tried to over compensate from his city background with wacky handkerchiefs tied around his neck and overly patched up overalls, on which of course he only used cloth even louder and wackier than his handkerchiefs for the patches), however if they could see how well he works with those pigs; how he soothes the mothers when they give birth; how he is at the ready like a husband squeezing his wife’s hand in the maternity ward as she throws ice chips at him, and then how he protects the adorable piglets from their mothers’ cannibalistic tendencies after the birth  (grotesque, I know, but also a scientific fact that such occurrences are very real risks) and if they could also see how he gets right back up every time he falls into the manure pile (which has, unfortunately, been happening at least twice a day since he moved here) and how  he brushes off his hands onto his overalls (which are also manure covered and so all he is really doing is spreading the manure around and working it deeper into both the cloth and his skin) then maybe – just maybe – they could climb down from their judgmental states of superiority and scoop manure with him, because he does, without a doubt in my mind, belong here – perhaps even more so than those who judge him, because he chose this life and they were born into it, which gave them the ease of learning necessary skills throughout childhood so that those skills became natural habits, and not something for which they had to work their asses off knowing an easier lifestyle could be theirs, as I have seen this amazing young man do.

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