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By AnonymDavid Pratt
His face clouded over when Calvin and Peachy tried to explain women. Peachy pressed on bravely. “Now, the purpose of the vagina,” he was saying. He stopped and said to Calvin, “Why can’t we just buy him a book?
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By AnonymDavid Pratt
I mean, there’s no sun and no hot guys. What is this awful place, Calvin?” “It’s my apartment.
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By AnonymDavid Pratt
It was all very utopian, but it gave one nothing to get, to win, to hold onto. There were no distances, so there was also no closeness.
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By AnonymDavid Pratt
So basically,” Calvin said, “this is My Fair Lady in a walk-up on West Twenty-Second Street with no music and no Julie Andrews.
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By AnonymDavid Pratt
This, Calvin realised, as Joey grinned and told him sweetly to “Suck that dick” was what it was like to be God: utter confidence, utter trust, utter ease with yourself, no move you could not make, no tank top you could not wear, no guy who would not worship you, not ever. This was the end state. Bliss.
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