Out of all the furry gals you could criminally grope, you choose the one
with built in biological weaponry. In seconds you are covered from head to
toe in foul smelling musk. "Oh god!" you scream. "It's even in my mouth!" Then you die. Just for a second. The impact of your body hitting the hard, metal chairs in the front row shocks your heart back to life. When you finally regain your sanity, you see an attractive vixen EMT checking you over and binding up your gaping wounds (the chairs had been hard and pointy). What do you do now?
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7/11/2008 1:05:55 PM
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