 "...avast ye swabs, or throats I'll slash,
yer grub be mine fer takin'--
surrender every heap o' hash,
and crispy strip of bacon..." |  "...Devin worked in a coffeehouse built out of reclaimed popsicle sticks and primitive light-bulbs. Also, rumor had it, he had forged the wrought iron fixtures way down in the fires of Hell..." |
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