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“Just eat the snow.” “Not the yellow snow,” someone else quips. “Oh sure, everyone’s a comedian now that I’m the one going out to scout,”
convince to go down on me, and this one’s doing it as a greeting.
“If a guy shows up with a hamburger, he can plant as many babies in me as he wants,” Liz declares. I hear shuffling outside and low murmured conversations. I sigh and look at Liz. “Did I mention that some of them learned English from the old ship?”

