I gave madam an excuse, and stumbled off to the toilet next door.
Within, the fortune of solitude worth a million.
A cough, and the silver and glass looked a Cthulu.
The redeeming ebony of matured intellect ever visible to all.
What have I done? Only thrill that the fleeing know too well
Upped my confidence, forklifted my spirits ever low and heavy.
I gave a whoop of laughter, ringing thru the hygiene hall.
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