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Story No. 35014
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He remembered not to piss against the wind, so he let it all hang out. He turned to block the breeze and instead faced a large crowd of
angry femenists, so I grabbed my twatsicle and stated waving at the hairy bitches hoping it would raise
the ire of the king, but only succeeded in alarming
the men, who all now awoke to the taste of hooker spit and
Craven Menthols. And there's only one cure for that...
a little bit of hair gel should slick it back, no problem.
