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| Are you sure you're OK over there, Jesus? | |
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| Oh, I'm fine. I like it here, just hanging out, nails through my hands, dying for your sins. | |
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| No, seriously, is there anything I can get you? | |
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| Like a crowbar, maybe? No, no, I'll just die a slow, horrible death, my body gaunt and racked. I'll try to be quiet about it. | |
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| Jesis, you're such a martyr. | |
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| Well duh. By the way, I can see your monitor from here. Nice job racking up the sins for me to die for. | |
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