Imagine you're a deer. You're prancing along. You get thirsty. You spot a little brook. You put your little deer lips down to the cool, clear water - BAM. A f@ckin' bullet rips off part of your head. Your brains are lying on the ground in little bloody pieces. Now I ask ya, would you give a f@ck what kind of pants the son-of-a-b!tch who shot you was wearing?
She was pretty then, she's pretty now. And I hear that she's into short, quirky, bald men.
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