Nova Donaghadee Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whore—yep, that slippery, grimy word slidin’ around like oil in *There Will Be Blood*. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that flick—Daniel Day-Lewis screamin’, “I drink your milkshake!”—and it hits me: whore’s got that same vibe. Sucks ya dry, leaves ya empty, laughin’ all maniac-like. I mean, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah, it’s bigger—think greed, think sellin’ soul for a buck. That’s what pisses me off, man! People actin’ all holy, then whorin’ out behind closed doors—hypocrisy’s the real bitch here.

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This opening paragraph from Charles Dicken's A Tale of Two Cities sums up many people's views on the Twelfth with the appropriate text deleted.

So, I’m fumin’ a bit, but whatever. I keep walkin’ and head over to the harbor. The view is sick, tho. The sun glintin’ off the water, boats bobbin’ around. I’m feelin’ a bit better. I pull out my sketchbook, ready to capture the moment. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and tries to steal my sandwich! Like, dude, chill! It’s not your lunch! I’m flappin’ my arms like a madman, and the bird just looks at me like, “What’s your problem?”

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