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Horn Blowin' Blues I aimed my octaves into the nightscape toward her house where she scuttled away and shuttered up against my hearty serenado. Fluttery arpeggios wasted away into thinning (and chilling) climate like so many sour little flatulets despite ellicitations into her brittle indifference. "I need soothings of Mahler!" she said into her hot-line to the police precinct, "Mozartian whinnies and baroque bum blasts do nothing for my libido-- come immediately!" |
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