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I've seen the best and the worst of you. This may come as a shock, but I'm actually not very good at talking to girls. Imagine Bonnie and Clyde if they had 150 years to get it right. Bonnie and Clyde, they wanted fame, notoriety, and boy did they get it. They also got dead. You will keep a civil tongue in this house or we'll put your tongue in a stew.
Did the primary buffer panel just fall off my Gorram ship for no apparent reason? Woman, you are completely off your nut.
Now I'm just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth. So I skipped intro to evil or whatever, but how is it that I get an F, when this guy that we're reading, Chauncey, can't even spell? I would appreciate it if one person on this boat would not assume I'm an evil, lecherous hump. Let me pour you a big frosty mug of 'shut-the-hell-up.' You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other 'til it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Hey, no, we'll just set course for Planet of the Lonely, Rich, and Appropriately Hygienic Man. Uh, hey, I got a idea. Instead of us hanging around playing art critic 'til I get pinched by the man, how's about we move away from this eerie-ass piece of work, and get on with our increasingly eerie-ass day. How's that?
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