He doffed his hat at the attractive alien, never realizing that in her culture that action tied him to her for life. He tried to get rid of her by expelling the loudest fart he could muster, but he only succeeded in soiling his pants and increasing her adoration. Little did he know that it was her favorite smell, and she was, unbeknownst to him, a “nose” from the elite parfumery of the house of Chanel.
His plan failed, he couldn’t throw her off his scent. What would his next plan of attack be?
Cock-a-doodle-doo! He had a plan: he would lose her now! He ran through the pack of dwarves (or were they dwarfs? -- he didn’t have time to ponder spelling!), and lost her in the crowd. The crowd were all dwarves -- they hid her from him. After all, she belonged to them and they didn’t want to lose her.
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