I probably shouldn’t reveal this in public, but I think I found the torture that might push me over the edge and confess to being an accessory to John Wilkes Booth’s assassination of Lincoln, should anyone want to force me to make that claim. I might even believe I was part of it, if someone were to focus on one tiny part of my body.
No — not the lower unmentionables.
Something much less in the manner of “naughty bits”. It would be: My teeth.
Yes. My teeth.
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