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| Oh, Ed. While we were in jail, I had the strangest dream. I thought we were dead. | |
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| We were, Fred, but it didn't take. | |
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| Well, you see, lil' bro', our bodies are so well pickled in alcohol, that we can't really die. | |
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| This is a good thing, isn't it, Ed? | |
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| Yes, just like Martha Stewart's bourbon-filled Easter eggs. | |
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