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Lord Fred pondered his king's beard. It was one foot long exactly, stuck out from his chin like it was trying to escape, solid as a bush and gave the orphans living in the south wing raging nightmares. "It's coming to eat me!" they would often cry to Nanny Goatmother. "The beard, the beard!" Fred thought about the beard some more.
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9/9/2014 4:52:18 PM
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