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Story No. 34052
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Dog, you be trippin'. I don't know what you be thinkin' by spittin' all that game at my girl, but you best step off it. Next time I see you with her I'm gonna
take it as a sign that she no longer wants to
reminisce about the times of old, in the 3rd age of Middle Earth. Back in those times, the pipeweed was plentiful and the wenches buxom. I will miss those times, along with
the feeling I got when she ran her fingers through my hair and caressed me in silence as we heard the bombs fall over our heads.
The only thing we could do to pass the time was to imagine we were home, back on the farm. Mom was about ready to hand me a slice of apple pie, when the sergeants whistle went off to tell us to advance to the next trench. It was at this point a bullet h
-h -hit me and i d -d -dodged it by doing some extravagant Matrix-esque move. Then, I woke up. Just like that. It was a dream, one I was relieved to be done with.
