"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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