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2026-01-01 | ๐Ÿฅฑ Tired ๐Ÿผ Immature ๐Ÿ› ๏ธ Tools ๐Ÿ“บ๐Ÿ“š

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๐Ÿ› ๏ธ In the chaotic workshop, amidst the usual clutter of ๐Ÿชต sawdust and ๐Ÿ”ฉ forgotten screws, lived a peculiar set of ๐Ÿงฐ tools. ๐Ÿ”จ There was Hammer, ๐Ÿ˜ซ perpetually exasperated, his face a caricature of an ๐Ÿ˜ฑ open-mouthed scream, always on the verge of ๐Ÿฅฑ collapsing from sheer fatigue. ๐Ÿ”ง Leaning against him, the Wrench, ๐Ÿ˜” forever burdened with a droopy, melancholic expression, seemed to carry the ๐Ÿ‹๏ธ weight of all the worldโ€™s unfinished projects. ๐Ÿ‘ถ And then there was Baby Pliers, a chubby, ๐Ÿผ pacifier-clutching infant, sprawling across the ๐Ÿชต workbench, creating more ๐ŸŒช๏ธ mess than order. ๐ŸŽถ Their existence was a symphony of ๐Ÿ’จ sighs, ๐Ÿ˜ฃ groans, and the occasional ๐Ÿ˜ข whimper, a testament to the fact that even in the ๐ŸŒ world of tools, some days were just ๐Ÿงฑ harder than others.

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