My gift would be a clay pipe with a crack in the bowl. And on the tag tied with a string to the pipe stem would be the words:
"For Morthoron, who insists that he really should quit smoking, yet still borrows pipeweed liberally from my jar."
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And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
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