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The shitmobile, an old faithful yet rather crappy vehicle, groaned as the shit head tried to start it. Various shitmen leapt into action, pushing and grunting, so that the Shit Head could start the vehicle with a pop of the old clutch.
There was something in the air that day. Shit Head's assistant, Shit Head No. 2, glanced back at the crew and smiled slightly. It was good work they were doing, honest work. He couldn't imagine working with a better pile of shitmen.
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