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kenkantor: What's the Point Protrero.
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kenkantor: Race you to the roof.
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kenkantor: Burial ground.
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kenkantor: I'll have what he's having, but more.
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kenkantor: Just do what the man says.
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kenkantor: Abandoned crime scene.
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kenkantor: My normally whiney voice echoed authoritatively.
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kenkantor: Thirsty for hunger.
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kenkantor: Always the same, at least in some ways.
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kenkantor: No more room for once, honey.