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| The voices in my head tell me to kill... but I wanna be... a Dancing Queeeen! | |
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| Nazi Bologna Baby. Processed meat, Heil Hitler. Goo goo burble. | |
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| My baby, you've killed my baby! | |
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| Everybody do the burning polka! Everybody feel the pain of fire! | |
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| You offend my intellect, sir. | |
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| How come at a table with Matt and Robert, I'm the fat guy?! | |
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