So
Glorfie decides to leave me cuffed to
Claude. Listening to him recite poetry the first few hours was okay, after the fourth hour it began to wear on me. By the fifth, he had to be destroyed. Then there's the damn molestations that never fucking end. The last straw was Bjork. I could handle poetry, the molestations ...but not Bjork. I'm sorry, it
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And that fucking horse needs to be sent to a glue factory. All anyone has to do is claim that they fucked Celeborn, mention the silver pants that EVERYONE remembers and he believes it. I hate horses, they only cause trouble. *angrily rubs the contact point of Arwen's shovel from the first theft of Asfaloth*
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.........
*hugs*
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