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| Eat thou this blood pudding in remembrance of me. | |
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| Ugh, I can't stand the cite of blood pudding. Can we get some Cherry Garcia, instead? | |
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| It makes me sick the way you treat us like...sheep. Yeah, I said it! Screw you, crossboy. I'm going back to Europe. | |
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| Now get thee down to the water, my son, and I will baptize ye in the name of my father. | |
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| Forget it, Jesus, you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. | |
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