The lid was never off Serb's theoretical coffin. The bones did not so much as rattle, nor did the spirits moan.
At best, Serb's glazed eyes told his herb sated brain of a glimmer in the moonlight, lying, to conceal the dampness of a droplet of virginal fluid, a precusor of manhood near but unrealized.
IN OTHER WORDS GROW UP AND BE A MAN!
At best, Serb's glazed eyes told his herb sated brain of a glimmer in the moonlight, lying, to conceal the dampness of a droplet of virginal fluid, a precusor of manhood near but unrealized.
IN OTHER WORDS GROW UP AND BE A MAN!

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