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I don't know which frightens me more, that someone would actually hire you, or that tonight, you'll be prancing about your flop-house bedroom talking to your fist, and calling it Liquid-Sunshine. When you ravage your digits this evening, be gentle, you don't want anymore calluses. Those stallions you milk for sperm down at the stables need a pair of soft hands.
Oh, by the way littleman, I could buy and sell you many times over; but I have no use for a cheap knockoff.
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