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In Praise of Porches
But Mr. Stud never gets to roll in the hay with that little lady. Rather, he is led to the phantom mare where he, um, lets loose, and, with the help of The Sherriff and his farm assistant deposits his goods into the largest zip lock baggie you’ve ever seen.
Sitting bare-assed on the ancient wooden bench felt like we were being punished in some way. Like a naked “time out.”