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Poor baby.
I would have kept him alive and fed him water and gold-duct, not served him up for dinner.
He could have ridden in my spangly silver bag like one of Paris Hilton's dogs, and terrorised the neighbourhood while I worked, skimming milk and sometimes making the drink to have no barm.
Sigh. One man's meat is another man's helpmeet.
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Life's hard you know, so strike a pose on a Cadillac
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