Everybody loved Old Slac and his Merry Widows, but the cattle came for the parades, and stayed for the feast. Of course the feast was them, under the cover provided by the street festival for the wolven kind....
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Horrible and funny! Some days I can identify with that scenario."Good morning, good morning, good morning," one hand shook the other shook the other shook the other and the other. They were all mine, all mine.