Re: Planet bar v7.12
After realising that imperfections in the theory of parallel evolution have rendered him about half the size of the bar's apparent target drinkers, Novalis hunts around for something with which to mount a barstool. Two minutes and some frantic wrestling with an upturned bin later, he rests his weary chin upon the bar and orders a double whiskey.
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I suck my thumb at you, Sir!
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