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Bob the Red Dragon sits and stares at the Bar patrons. Every once in a while a wisp of smoke will rise from his nostril. Suddenly, BOb tries to do a jig! Stuff begins to go *splat*...
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Bow down to the Weasels of Apocalypse! RaBid Fruit Trees! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Miniature Exploding Demonic Demons of Doom, Death and Desruction!
:1drgat1:
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