Chongo scratched his hairy little ape skull in puzzlement. There, underneath the hydrangea, was not chickenshit, but the most foul smelling canned vegies he's ever seen, with something black and rubbery sticking out….. bat wings…. Whoever these people were, they needed to learn how to compost properly. He followed the sound of women's voices, standing under the window, where he could see… Her beautiful curves, listen to her honey voice, and think about running his fingers through her long, black, glossy hair.. Chongo forgot everything and quietly watched, as Magenta was standing, waving her arms, and shouting something about overcoming oppression of a will... was she having probate problems?
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