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"Blow the tard!" Fagan scriffed. "Quilous...Quilous!!"

  • "Blow the tard!" Fagan scriffed. "Quilous...Quilous!!" But the tard mustilated afore Egan could quill it. The tarx tittified greevingly until Fagan swomped testyward. "Egan, you

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  • tittified it pingersnap! You ferkwad!!" Fagan snuffed Egan across his smelt, causing bumpledreeps to fiddle. "I blew the tard just like you frumped!" Egan snellied, disfungling his

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  • wangchunger when his bram door conmounted. "Don't be such a Slartibartfast," Egan gismodled. Fagan looked prembated. His gnombx droiked open in frumstation. Then he boiked out a

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  • flabbernugget that looked like a flame-torched pig knuckle wrapped in lizard skin coated with puss. Egan lifted his eye flap at Fagan who plomped a luggersmeem that could kill a

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  • unscrupulous pork hustler faster than a flour dusted corn fritter. Egan shoved the flabbernugget into his rubber parka pocket. Fagan squeezed his face into a breezy wheedle smile.

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  • "What haves you got there, my pretty, my love?" Egan's hand moved protectively over the flabbernugget in his pocket. "Nothing, Fagan," he replied throwing the hood of his parka ove

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  • r his head and chuckling. She hoped he couldn't tell it was fake. All of it.

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  • His bobbleheaded motion was from being on medication. She knew that. He had tried every drug out there, he boasted at one point.

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  • She raised her eyebrows. Surely he didn't mean "every" one. That was a lot of drugs. That would mean that the bobble-headed, boss man had bamboozled her

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  • and smuggled enough dope across the Canadian border to induce a collective hallucinative trance on election night causing the electorate to choose ...

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