The human waited months for his birthday to come around as an excuse to go the The Argentine Cafe. He knew exactly what he wanted on the menu. Blood sausage, and cow's neck skin and red wine. And I was the magical Imaginary Theresa; who would have devoured all of that scab tasting sausage if not stopped. Imaginary Theresa just sipped a red wine and watched the human delight in each bite of food. He was in heaven.
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