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Father Tim and Bobby Triscuit inspect their surroundings...
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| Dese walls are made of God's divine stuff, Bobby... Don't dat in'nerest ya? | |
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| Aw, come now, Bobby. Yer a scientist. Look at dis stuff. | |
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| Father Tim... We were made in God's image, so it stands to reason that our shitters were made in the image of God's shitter. There's nothing remarkable about the human excretory system. | |
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| Don'tcha see why yer down here den? Yer too sma't for paradise, Bobby. | |
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| (Pssst... Kevin. Your dick is showing.) | |
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