I know I am not what I seem, but that is only one spectacular aspect of me, reflected by the brightness of the curving bloomers that blossom out in fluted curves, poofing out as I sit down on tiny chairs too big for me. I am also just what I seem, but for seeing that side of me, you need a ticket. Here. Take one. They're free. They're red, and if you lick them, you get clean. And you know, there's a little something on your face, a bit of something dead.
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