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You rub the shaving cream on Tooshy, forming a little Abe Lincoln hat and beard.
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You open the window and with a lot of effort push Tooshy out, sure that anyone who sees Honest Abe back from the dead is sure to call the police. Half a second later, though, a thought strikes you.
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| I'm on the seventh floor. | |
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Grief stricken over killing both your pet priest and the preserver of the union, you take your life with the remaining shaving cream.
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