Are they to be placed like devils beyond the pale of all human charities, and to be denied all kindly and benevolent offices?
‘Is this Scott Lawson's dude ranch?’ soberly inquired the rider of the pinto.
Ferris is on her cell phone, connecting with her friends, or whatever she calls it that she does when she makes plans to get shithoused again, to lose her ID at some nondescript bar, to go home with some total beast of a drunk, to delay reality for one more day.
The latter two are one-component materials, which cure by consumpting the humidity of the stone.
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