"You pee yourself?"
exclaimed the bed-wetter, his piteous suicide ruined.
I'm a little early, but I wrote this a few days ago and I'm not waiting until midnight to post it.
A conundrum has poked his furry head out of the closet. A literary magazine I adore is accepting readers. However, I just started Moleperson Magazine and applied for a second job.
I believe that we here in internetland would say: >.<
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