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"War" was a worn-out word. Too much napalm in it. Didn't smell very nice any more. Made you think of eyeballs Just a little bit too crispy, Of testicles A little too jagged at the edges. The packagers went to work. Strolled the supermarket. Lulled, and were reassured. Nampaddle, that's the answer. We won't make war on them, We'll just nampaddle them a little. (For their own good? Well, yes, of course. That's understood.) |
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