from see you in hell—suckersCatherine Paquette
Hunter-blood cannot be vegetarian. Genes be willing, I tried, one year, I did. It was the likeness of my father in lace. There were these hippies, pack-like they surrounded me. Them—their knotted hair, hair on their everywhere. For some reason they are hairy. I was vulnerable to their ways—therefore that year. Now, ravenous to regain time lost, I eat hippies by the handful.
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