There is, perhaps, no trade which is more destructive of human life than that of the fork-grinder was until the peculiar respirator was made obligatory.
The weaker carabaos are slaughtered for meat, the stronger ones put to work on Golgotha, and the drivers are assimilated into the workforce.
The reasons for our failure were as uncountable as the grains of sand on a beach.
Once they break formation, we'll pick off the bucket-heads one at a time.
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