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Why is it I have the impression you’re always trying to get me out in your yard on very hot days to perform various and sundry tasks of a strenuous nature? Oh, wait; I just now figured out what you’re up to! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Grrrrrrrrrr.
P.S. Don’t try to farm my services to Welby Quentin. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.
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Oops!
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Buckets of cold water to throw on Welby over here, people! Buckets, I said, buckets! Keep the line moving, don’t give him the slightest chance to cool down even a little bit! Otherwise, we’ll have an uncontrollable monster on our hands. Grrrrrr.
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As I always say, you think of every angle, don’t you? I love the way your plan plays out. You feign disinterest in taking hush money from me, and you do it publicly. That way, it covers our tracks when we both skip town and skip the US for greener pastures in some foreign locale (that has no extradition treaty with the United States). All of your history on here concerning me leads everyone to believe you can’t stand me, so no one would suspect we’ve run off together. The money that I don’t spend to keep you quiet is in reality useful for us when you and I set up our lust nest.
I’ll even let you get away with that typo while I’m at it. Grrrrrr.
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Awwwww, how cute. Writing to me in baby talk.
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