(A work of collaborative fiction, bad puns and, if we’re really lucky, silly erotica.)
Our heroine rolls over easy in bed and awakens on the sunny side of the room. She gingerly stretches her leggs. She wonders what eggactly last night’s dream of poachers means. Is it an indication that she was plagiarizing? Or was it just her fertile imagination free ranging far and wide, spinning fantasies of cocky lawmen who keep evildoers from hatching plans to illegaly feather their nests?
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