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I'd whisper "I love you" and give Snacks a tender smile, and cut his throat from ear to ear with a box cutter. Covered in his own warm blood, Snacks'd look straight into my very soul, forgiving, understanding. A bubble formed of blood and saliva would burst between his lips, and he would let out his last breath. After some additional lovemaking, I'd stuff him in a bin bag. Three weeks later, some playing children will find Snacks' mutilated and desecrated body in the forest. They will be scared for life.
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