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PAST ME IS THE DUMBEST BUCKET OF FESTERING DISCHARGE I EVER FELL ASS BACKWARDS INTO.
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RIGHT NOW THERE’S A LUMBERJACK SPLITTING WOOD ON MY THINK PAN.
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OH, HA HA! IF SMUG WAS A MOTORCYCLE, IT JUST JUMPED OVER A FUCKING CANYON. THE CROWD GOES WILD WITH DISMAY, AND THEN COMMITS MASS SUICIDE.
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YOUR BRITTLE SKULL IS WHAT IS WEAK, AND IF YOU AND I WERE IN THE PROXIMITY OF A BLUNT INSTRUMENT I WOULDN’T HAVE MUCH TROUBLE PROVING IT.
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Dead Daves are the enemy.
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He's nor replying to me... Why is he not replying? Does he hate me now? I miss him...