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CHU MA VAY YAL CHU MA VAY YAL “This is how you treat you Ma, you jeggin potzheads?” She snorted, tried to wrench her arms free. “You Granma?”

CHU MA VAY YAL CHU MA VAY YAL “Hai! Prophet! Be damn to your god for a rat’s ass! You Ma a poxy treez. You Pa got the Itch, been rid by every jeggin Hero in jeezin ro-yal guard…” She went on and on, with every step digging up more invective from a life lived hard and colorfully. The Cheoshim holding her tightened their grip and began breathing heavily, but the Prophet walked in a cell of silence and nothing she said reached him.

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