In a land long ago and far far away, there lived a mighty Knight and his followers who spent their days searching quests and bragging about them 'round a bright, white table
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The men started on their quest. No sooner had they started than Sir Drew of the Too-Many-Donuts started to complain about this and that and everything else. Having a keen sense of...well...senses, Sir Dimples the Bald knew that it was Sir Skinny the Tall who really had the complaints. After a moment, he went down to hands and knees and said to Sir Skinny the Tall "Verily, my Leige, in the days of my youth, I enjoyed playing sport called 'horsie'. I would be the horsie and you would mount me. It would spare your back many troubles, I would say."
"Mount," Sir Speccies said, leering and nodding. "And in case you need any enticement, Sir Dimples, I happen to have two plump, round, juicy apples and a long, thick, throbbing carrot for you to munch on as you go."
Passing by a wooded glen the company decided to enter and take the path less traveled. It always boded well. There they happened across an old beggar woman spouting off nonsensical jargon and it had them all wondering if the woman had partaken of the weed that grew plentifully in the gardens beyond their fortress of Solitude.
"Methinks madame, you have been smoking of the wacky tabaccie." Sir Specks implied.
At that very second, Sir Skinny the Tall, Sir Dimples the Bald and Sir Speccy the Snarky fell atop of one another into a sticky, panting, sated knot. Each had a huge grin on his face.
"If I'm a'smokin wacky terbacky," the crone said, "them there boys sure are smokin the good stuff! Got any fer sale?"
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"Mount," Sir Speccies said, leering and nodding. "And in case you need any enticement, Sir Dimples, I happen to have two plump, round, juicy apples and a long, thick, throbbing carrot for you to munch on as you go."
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"Methinks madame, you have been smoking of the wacky tabaccie." Sir Specks implied.
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"Oh, yeah, baby, harder...harder...that's it...harder! GooooooHORSIE! YEEEE HAW! YEAH!"
At that very second, Sir Skinny the Tall, Sir Dimples the Bald and Sir Speccy the Snarky fell atop of one another into a sticky, panting, sated knot. Each had a huge grin on his face.
"If I'm a'smokin wacky terbacky," the crone said, "them there boys sure are smokin the good stuff! Got any fer sale?"
Reply
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