Bradley needs to get his sh*t together...

kann

One Leg Of Fury.
It seems Mr. Thoughts can't seem to keep track of where he places all of his cigars, and a plethora of incredible sticks accidentally got dropped in another package he was sending my way. Geez, man... are you just getting old? Need glasses? I mean, I know you were sick at the time, so I'll just chalk it up to that and assume you will keep a better eye on your inventory in the future.

Thank you, sincerely, my friend. I truly mean it.
 
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