YOU_KNOW_WHAT_I_AM_GUNNA_LEAVE
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John stuck the powdery finger into George's willing mouth, under his lip, and slowly ran the pad over his top gums, Moving it back and forth with leisure. Spreading the remaining coke like a sweet jam. It wasn't even enough to do anything for the others high probably. Still, he kept his finger there and eventually, like an afterthought, moved to mapping out the other's mouth. Tracing it over his back molars, the small divots and dents. Worn down bone, worn down George. Erosion.