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Chapter 3 by TheRealMappy

Well? What DO you have to say for yourself?

Schnizzle my Nizzle?

"Schizzle my Nizzle?"

"What the-" he looks at you like you have a third head, understandably. Obviously you're alot drunker than he thought.

"What's going on?" He asks you, suddenly showing concern, unlike him. You ignore him for a moment and pound another shot, wincing from the taste. You hate tequila, but it serves its purpose.

What is wrong?

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