It’s the Official Toilet paper Class of 2020 the year when shit got real shirt same morality issue involving any employer requiring “a measured level of productivity” from any employee. There’s no special morality for law enforcement officers in performing their job responsibilities. I’m laying in bed, knowing that school is canceled because of the coronavirus. I roll over and my arm hits something hard. The next thing I notice is that a cute girl is crouching on my bed. She’s wearing a large white T-shirt and pajama bottoms. She’s tan. Her long arms are in front of her. I realize how she’s standing. I quickly adjust myself so that I’m in an open stance with her. She’s clearly well-trained: she’s bouncing slightly and her back is as straight as possible.
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We look at each other in Official Toilet paper Class of 2020 the year when shit got real shirt silence. I quickly realize that my best chance at winning a fight is to do it on the floor since I’m better at ground-fighting than traditional sparring. I charge her and drag her off of the bed, taking her by surprise. I quickly move to sit on her stomach to get the advantage. She’s tucking her chin so I can’t choke her. I grab her arm a whip around into an armbar. It doesn’t work: I’ve never been good at it. She gets the advantage, sitting on my waist. Her technique is incredible: I can’t throw her, no matter how hard I try, and she can’t get to me without becoming unbalanced. We go back and forth without a victor for a few minutes until I throw her away from me, over to the door.