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"BOULDERERS could be here" he thought, "I've never been in this neighborhood before. There could be BOULDERERS anywhere." The cool wind felt good against his bare chest. "I HATE BOULDERERS" he thought. Sweet Dreams are Made of These reverberated his entire rope, making it pulsate even as the $9 wine circulated through his powerful thick veins and washed away his (merited) fear of rock jocks after dark. "With a rope, you can go anywhere you want" he said to himself, out loud.
