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Click hereWhen I got back to Boston, I was greeted by my father Lucius Beauregard. I told him and the rest of the family all about my travels. All the things I had seen and done. Our exploits in the South became the stuff of legends in the small Black community of Boston. When I do look back on my experiences from time to time, I tend to smile. All human beings have an animal side deep inside them. It's just waiting to get out. We're all slaves to passion at the end of day, man and woman alike. It's not something that will change anytime soon. Men are men. Women are women. Regardless of race, we're all the same underneath it all. Slaves to our passions, no matter what they may be. Accept that, because it's the simple truth. What was true in my time is also true in yours. Farewell, folks.
You've written absolute crap before, but this may be the nadir of your shittiness. Meet Stevenson Beauregard. And I'm here to tell ya. You suck as a writer.