Janet

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She waggles her eyebrows. “He’s looking to add his banana to that fruit salad.” I blink. “What?” “You know, batter-dipping the corn dog. Creaming your twinkie,” she says, a faint smile curling on her lips is the only inclination that she’s not serious. I’m stunned silent for a second, so she continues, “Bringing the al dente noodle to the spaghetti house.”
Bouncy
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