Trax: I am a thought artist who can project my thought art telepathically...I live to dream.
Loca: I live for you to make money honey...
Trax: Don't you dream Loca?
Loca: Not as much since I was made biomechanical...hope lives in the dream though. Like we are all playing for golden dildos?
Trax: Or platinum pussy pockets...I seek the dream orgasm...climax to a consequential epiphony. That and the bloodlust blood rush.
Loca: Fastest gun in the west...my pussy tastes the best. Tell me about it? Us androids taste like latex? So what is with you and that "old meat", Luna Cole?
Trax: I fell for thee and it's not my cup of tea dahling? Extra pussy cheese on my "Peterza"?
Loca: Not in my place of forgiveness...
Trax: Oh yeah where is that?
Loca: Stuck in the closet with the "Rectal Terradectyl"?
Trax: Or my new meat...
Loca: Ha ha ha...It all tastes like chicken!
What is the entree without the pick aside?
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