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Stop your squawking, you’ll be fine. Now pick up your kidneys and go home.
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We’re just playing make-believe. One real punch from me would splatter his torso like a water balloon.
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Well, he’s not going to be eating solid food for a while.
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What did you call me? NOW I'M GONNA HAVE TO HURT YOU EVEN WORSE THAN I WAS PLANNING TO!!!
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Frisk me. Rough me up. Punch my pancreas. It’s police brutality and its cutest form.
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If he really wanted me to stop he would have jumped through the window.
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I have many ways to make you go weak in the knees.
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I hope his skull is still under warranty!
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