In which lingering disputes are thrust on limpest boosters
of the traditional plot by sweet-throated nightingales
become cranky larks.
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Imagine...the two great male lines of Verona
on the battlefield, no uniforms, completely nude
...with hard, protruding cocks.
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We wanna be loved by them, just them
nobody else. Booboo be doop.
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She couldn't aspire to anything higher.
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Right, hot heads...on cold feet!
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What if...what if Juliet played Romeo?
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Ah, then we'd have an ending.
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Yes! I could be a much better woman...as
a man with Juliet...than I ever could...
as a woman with Romeo.
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Girls, please!
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She's obviously delusional.
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Just keep telling yourselves,
you're girls, you're girls.
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