Believe it or not, I don’t even care about the dress. That hair. I actually thought it was a hat at first. It’s like, a giant cross-mixture between a caterpillar and a weasel laying dormant on her head, just waiting for the first insult of the night to pounce. I bet that’s what it’s for. It’s to make sure she gets on every best-dressed list in town. Well, not on my watch honey; not on my watch.
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