People were sad. They formed a village and called it Happy Happy. Everything was painted blue: the houses, the cows, their clothes dyed blue. All was sweetness and lights until he saw a vision of children, dancing outside a chimney, rain beneath a silk curtain. From that point on Mr. Carpainter was a saint, a prophet, a messenger of God. His
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Consider yourself banned. Toodle-o.
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Guess I'll have to plain old ignore.
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