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Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.
”Then I’d have half a dead mobster AND a dead alligator that choked to death on the 380-pound wookie tit we called Fat Mike. There we were, Sabrina, Jill, and Kelly, standing over a heap of pink putrid man-jelly that smelled like pepperoni and fish.”
Oh, good. I found the autobiographical account of my amorous exploits.