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on a giant serving of turkey tetrazzini.
Flipper lights a joint and takes a deep toke. Exhaling, he asks, "So, what do you think of the Central American banana situation?"
I take a toke off the joint and reply, "The world's difficulties would end if we all got together, dressed up in Spiderman Underoos, and sang a medley of World War II songs in Serbo-Croatian. Until that happens, humankind will continue to be plagued with newspaper ads for Korean pastry chefs named Bucky."
Flipper contorts until he is fellating himself. A minute later, he reaches for a Kleenex and wipes off the corners of his mouth. "But if the U.N. Security Council moves its headquarters to Fairbanks, Alaska, won't it desecrate the sacred memories of Sid Vicious and W. Somerset Maugham?"
"Only if the Milli Vanilli tribute band refuses to break up immediately."
"Ah! I see."
Flipper offers me a rim job, which I accept. As he sticks his dolphin snout up my ass, I sigh longingly, "Oh, to be in the Marshall Islands for Ground Hog Day."
"You know something?" Your shit smells like pepperoni."
"Must be that Mama Celeste suppository. I needed it badly when I turned on the Oprah show, only to see Condoleezza Rice singing I AM THE WALRUS."
Flipper continues to rim my butthole, then reaches around my waist and masturbates me with his left water wing. I think of F. Lee Bailey and shoot my wad all over Toledo.
Hungry, Flipper and I gorge ourselves on the turkey tetrazzini. We eat it all and, with nothing left to support us in mid-air, we plunge to our deaths. The City of Toledo erects a Naugahyde statue in our memory, with the inscription, THEY DARED TO BUTT-FUCK ON TURKEY TETRAZZINI.
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