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"That's the last time I ask for a drink in

  • "That's the last time I ask for a drink in that place", I said warily, as I gently held the antiseptic wipe to my swollen
  • uvula which was throbbing like warning lights in a submarine. He'd ordered "Sex on the beach" at the Planet Hollywood but when he drank it
  • it made him feel like a real d-bag. At least his uvula situation was calming down, which was a relief. He felt for his wallet and upon realizing that it wasn't there
  • That damn hooker, should have known. He cursed himself. That's the last time he'd get a number from Ricky. Who as a matter of fact is a bigger whore than the one he'd just
  • taken out for a nice seafood dinner. How did he not see
  • that his chicken was medium rare and green, we quickly hailed a cab and headed to the friendly russian bath house to grow some sexy little
  • Russian dolls. Few people know that those Russian dolls are painstakingly grown in bathhouses, being watered and tended every day by Siberian peasants. If one breaks,
  • the city mourns. Each Russian doll is believed to represent the soul of an ancestor and if damaged the ancestor will suffer their death over and over until
  • it is repaired. I looked at his ancestors, each uncovering another, protecting another from damage that would torment them for eternity. I looked, and pulled out my
  • shocker. One touch could kill... of heal. But who am I to make such a choice? I'm just a human... "Indeed. A sapient creture, capable of making descisions lacking information."

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