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