Across the cold pre-dawn plains of the Serengeti the faint clip-clop of hooves is heard, a strange rickety sledge pulled by 8 ill matched Wildebeeste becomes visible in the faint light, a short tound red-clad figure cracks his whip and yells, " On Hash slinger, P***taker, Flanders and Swann On Red-eye, and Rudolf and sh**head and Don take off now to Sorcha's in far off Wyoming We'll stop off at Yellowstone,then we'll be homing " The 8 Wildebeeste gather their muscles and like a Marine Corps Harrier smoothly rise up into the sky and turn their backs to the rising dawn and head West......Sorcha's SS is on his/her way........
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