It was a dark and sultry night. As dark and sultry as Salma Hayek's crotch. Burnt stubble stabbed my back and legs, I clung to it as if I'd be spun off the planet without it. Stars and planets whirled and whooshed and whizzed above me. Hot, wet smoke and candy floss flavoured night breezes clouded me. Cars on Mountain Road lapped against the shore.
Time.
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