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Bulbous fruit extruded outwardly into space can interrupt the flow of positrons in atmospheric anchormen named Frank. All encompassing Nirvana filled - sauce, otherwise welcomes visitors to heaven. Frank never mother-loved dad the way he promised he would. So what am I to nuzzle except your spam. I pee freely, widely, wildly, while wily wabbit gestured willingly. Forgetting that crap, Frank dove headlong into the spam, fearlessly attacking the bulbous fruit that extruded outwardly into a miraculous, munching population of MasterSpam eaters from Pluto. The fruit-aliens amassed a phalanx of spam gunners. Wallowing in the vat of spam, Frank dropped his disguise and began to weep. He loved those little guys! He raised his arms placatingly and intoned a frank and spanking cry of peace, invoking the sacred nirvana sauce to save him from the spam gunners before his positron flow resumed and his dad discovered his latest science project.
