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"Do the words, 'Fuck you,' mean anything

  • "Do the words, 'Fuck you,' mean anything to you?" he asked in a whisper. It was so quiet you could hear a mouse piss on cotton. Then from the right

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  • and from the left arrived two big men wearing nothing but a thong, even the mouse stopped pissing on the cotton. Suddenly one of them said "You better watch your mouth young man,or

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  • your brains will soon be laying rotten all over this floor." The silent big man just raised his eyebrows and scratched at his five o'clock shadow forming on his cleft chin.

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  • It was a hell of a cleft. The Grand Canyon of clefts if I do say so myself. Damn thing was so big I could crawl inside and get lost for days. A real MAN'S cleft, if you know what I

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  • mean. His cleft was so pronounced his chin looked like a small pair of breasts. I wondered how he was able to shave it so smoothly with such a deep canyon. He noticed me oggling it

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  • and said, "I can tell you have chin envy." He turned away and I realized they didn't look so much like a pair of breasts but more like a pair of freshly shorn

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  • balls. I cringed and threw up on my mouth. Doggone it, my fate just happened to pick this moment to walk into my life. She was a tall, cool glass of water and I needed one of those

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  • to drink. Re-hydrating is very important. Hydrated balls and thrown up mouths should be topics of our conversation. Indeed, it is our fate to

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  • regurgitate the primeval delusions of grandeur harnessed by the unfettered spirit of the human mind's incapability to breach this secular life-style. Hydrated balls will be key.

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  • "The preferred nomenclature, said Walter, annoyingly interjecting as he often did, "is aqueous spheres, dude."

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