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Story No. 34047
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The beauty pageant was about to begin, the women breathed heavily, their breasts moving in unison as the song "
grinds to a crashing halt. It seems the bass player has broken a string and is refusing to proceed. Somebody get the bass player a G-string and a
B-string and we are off to the
Clemmenson's masquerade ball, with I in my finest Marie Antoinette costume and mother in
her cupboard,
we decided to kill them both.
