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She spent most of her days debating the futility of a finite life, and today was like no other.
“T?”
“Yes, m’lady?”
“If we truly cease existence in all forms when our physical self dies, then what is the point of being at all?”
“Well, Coco —”
“And T?”
“Yes, darling?” He sighed defeatedly.
“What is a truly moral life?”
“Nicole, I feel as if —”
“And T? If there is no predetermined path for our exis—”
“BITCH, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ENJOY THOSE TITTIES I BOUGHT YOU. THAT’S THE PREDETERMINED PATH OF OUR EXISTENCE.”
Coco cocked her head like a baby Springer Spaniel and Ice-T gazed longingly at all of the whores he could’ve chosen. Whores who didn’t question the existential life. Whores without brains as big as their titties.
