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Story No. 32201
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One kiss. Then, another. Then, another, but more passionate. Before long, they were
kicking themselves for not having brought rations and water, because nuclear holocaust is no picnic. They forged
each other's signatures as well as the river that run between them and lush meadows of
Lego. The blocky swaying of the Swedish mad plastic was hypnotic. And the smell! Ah the pugent odor of
dog sweat, mixed with the unmistakable waft of decaying lust. It would certainly send shivers right up ones
spines. Brrrrrrrrrr.
