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Situation #2: I'm at a poetry reading, spying on a disturbed young woman carrying valuable information. I'm pressed to recite something of my own, but I can't write a damn thing.
What would Bond do?
I take my shirt of, and when all of the women start fighting over me, I single out the girl and ask her to get me out of there. We leave together, and after three rounds of very rough sex and more inappropriate ass-slapping than Drew Carey at a comedy club, I tie her to a chair and pistol-whip the information out of her.
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