It was a double-dose of mistaken identity yesterday as a gentleman bearing an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Clean mistook me for someone else. Moments later, united with his companion, the strange character could be heard muttering in an alien tongue while brandishing a television antennae as a weapon. Maybe we should add the word D-O-P-P-E-L-G-A-N-G-E-R to Starbucks' list of spelling words.
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