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A very old work, conjured from my madness. Don't judge too harshly, I'm trying hard to write new stuff.
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Six enigmatic oranges were defenestrated by a collection of entantomorphic pears. They bounced in the street, only to be stolen by a kleptomaniac beneath the squall. The pears stared out of the hole as a voluptuous artiste, lacking in qualifications, sauntered down the street, sketching the destruction ambidextrously. The whole incident was hidden mendaciously and forgotten.