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Are you kidding me? Are you all so perversed?

  • Are you kidding me? Are you all so perversed? I read over all the lines I could possibly add to, not finding one fit for me to even humor. I sit, sipping my nightly beverage,

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  • trying to get my creativity on, and only lusty missives from mental midgets -- wait, should that be mental little people? Damn PC conscience pile drives every quip or banter that

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  • is actually funny into the lame zone. I decided that I would add, "Uh-uh honey." To everything I said. At least until Tuesday. Then I would hit the little people in the nuts with a

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  • plastic shovel and after making them poop themselves from the pain I would check to see if I find any golden mini-turds which I would eventually sell, so that by Monday

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  • everybody would realize how hot Cowboy TV is!

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  • You could fry an egg on it. As they sat in the Mojave contemplating the steaming radiator, an 18 wheeler approached from the South. Myrna waved and flapped her arms

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  • as if trying to achieve lift-off, but to no avail. The 18 wheeler thundered by kicking up a cloud of dirt in its midst. Wiping the sand out of our eyes, in the distance, we spied a

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  • fast-moving shiny object, headed straight for the speeding rig. We could do nothing but watch as the object collided with the trailer, exploding out the other side, and continued

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  • down the road. The trucker swerved to the siding and looked at the damage of his rig. Suddenly, a bespeckled teen on a broomstick flew by. "Damn quidditch..." the trucker muttered.

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  • Ever since the Equality of Muggles and Wizards Act has passed commons, such things had become too common. The trucker patted his Glock. "Soon, baby, soon," he said with a smile.

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