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| I sold my two hundred and thirteen times. Thanks to a few obese women and frightening desperate men, I got enough money for the ticket! And a pack of gum! | |
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| This is like Saint Williams day, where everyone wheres knickers and sings the fiddle. | |
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| And probably most important, we can move on from this graveyard. | |
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| Right when you start to feel at home, you die. | |
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| Are you going to miss our home here dear? | |
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| Nope. Just the place where my piddle has puddled like a mud mound. | |
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