A thought about infected Pudding.

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Tipsy: *Pulls out a letter from the mailbox*

Tipsy: *Pulls out a letter from the mailbox*

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Star!

Star: Yes?

Tipsy: Here.

Star: My thoughts..?

She's a f***ing fata***

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She's a f***ing fata***. End of story.

Infected Pudding: And your a h**.

Star: Oh wow. It talks. That's new.

Infected Pudding: I could always talk!

Star: Oh really? I liked you when you were muted and not a gluten.

Infected Pudding: It's not my fault i'm always hungry!

Star: Then go join Garfield you fat son of a b****.

Infected Pudding: *Hiss*

Tipsy: Star! Stop it!

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