After which the Dutchman removes a small plastic bag from behind his crushed rear mirror, tips some of its brownish contents into a cigarette paper along with a bit of tobacco and rolls the mother of all reefers. Three hours later, no one has called the police yet. Both are seated on a nearby slope laughing inanely at the sight of their respective car wrecks. The accident, the police and the Mons Margaux are distant memories by the time the first rays of the all-forgiving sun peer through the morning fog and start warming a truly united Europe.Originally Posted by luigi VI di Fatlington
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