"Jimmy, our forefathers were tired men who crawled to America to build houses out of particle board, lift the skirts of virgins and motorize the Pocono Mountains. They didn't worry about root decay and tongue cancer. They came to mine bituminous coal and roast 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘻𝘪𝘦𝘴 in **** heaps," Bobby said while brushing Maria's lush ******* absent-mindedly with his toes. "Yes, I know all that, but I'm concerned about Marsha, my half-sister's ex-lesbian lover. She went to Ligonier three months ago for Kotex ***** liners and no one's heard from her since," Jimmy whined in a shaky voice like a Gitmo ****. "Alright, I'll send out an all-points bulletin with police chief Rodney's unit. We ought to know something by Saint Swithin's Day." But they didn't. Days blew by like crazy and Marsha was not found. It was divulged by Kandee, a local ex-lesbian, that Marsha had been eaten by hyenas from a circus train derailment. Andrew, Kandee's boyfriend, found Marsha's bikini on a tree branch and tell-tale hyena markings nearby. All hope was lost till Marsha showed up, like nothing happened, at Julia's ex-lesbian pool party on Liberty Avenue.