A Dark Wizzard puled the mule over his eyes that day. All became dark, and smelly, and furry and stubborn. He could taste the last night's fizzy wine on his breath and feel the hang over that was coming because of the sourcerer's evil influence. Ahh, indeed, all he had held dear now appeared as mules and donkey's in sheep's clothing. Just as foolish and herbivorous, but with a more vicious kick.
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