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| Help me! Any minute now, Farmer John will sweep me up and cut out my heart in a pagan sacrifice to his chosen gods. | |
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| You're white as a new-shorn lamb, and more yeller-bellied than nicotine stains! Have no fear! Mr. Stinkybutt will save your rear! | |
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| Christ! These peasant hearts taste smoky. Revolting! | |
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| My worshippers are civilized; they eat bread which represents My spirit. | |
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| Jesus, man, dry little wafers don't hold the same 'je ne sais quoi' of raw beating hearts. Or nutritional value. | |
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| Yeah, but have you considered what part of my transsubstantiated flesh they're eating? | |
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