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And then comes the last kayak, plenty buoyant, and in it a beauty contestant in minimal black swimwear.
“Bawk-bawk be-gehk!” she cries, and I know just where she’s coming from.
Heaven favored me with three successive clement weekends.
They should be required to share a double bed and commit adultery with each other every night—twice if possible.
If you want to write worse than the average undergraduate male, consider philosophy.
But, as Shakespeare wrote, we sometimes “by indirections find directions out.”
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