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Just to clarify for everyone else, my seamstress was gored by a white Catalina bull earlier this week.

A brigand rode it into my anterior television room, which is the room with the TVs you can watch.

The posterior television room is the one where all the TVs face the walls. It's where I go when I don't want to watch Northern Exposure.

I spend most of my time in the posterior television room, obviously.

Which is why I had to hear of this incident second-hand from the woodcutter who was turned into an armchair by a wizard.

He spends most of his time in the anterior television room so he can spy on the seamstress who has no idea about furnituremorphic creatures.

He watches her while she masturbates in the fireplace, watching Northern Exposure, which is only sort of ironic.

She does it in the fireplace because this one time the armchair gave her a funny feeling.

The sounds my seamstress was making in her oblivious onanistic rapture only served to agitate the damnable bull. Or "damnabull."

So the white Catalina bull charges her, and she doesn't notice, what with the darkness of the chimney and Barry Corbin and all.

And the armchair/woodcutter tilts himself (the armchair version of throwing) into the path of the animal.

The great alabaster beast rips through the chairman, who is still filled with human insides, as is the gross magic of wizards.

The entrails of the living chair spray all over my seamstress just as she climaxes. The word "stuffing" is elegantly dismissed.

So, after the gore, she comes to me, seamstress seems stressed, tells me that she was, "totally gored," and quits on the spot.

So, it's been a pretty rough week for me. I've got no-one to sew up this damn chair and Northern Exposure isn't on in ten minutes, for once.
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