After months of tireless tracking, I finally caught the elusive woolly sabretoothed burrowing moose, milked the fierce beast, made cheese from its moose juice, and then fed the gooey confection (smelling of cinnamon and Canada) to a dangerously lactose intolerant mammoth bearskunk. The twin streams from the ill brute were directed at my enemies, and my long sought after victory was conclusively mine. Wombats and Fignewtonians from across the land rejoiced and there was much merrymaking.
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