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I've discovered why I keep deciding to say frumps for anything.
Dat sweet. Pink rectangle. A solidified marshmallow. Addictive joy.
Crumbling like the sweetest trickle of mush, liquid pink waltzing around the taste buds like the late afternoon arcade indulgences.
Utterly dumb, utterly so simple, utterly morish. Sweet toothers beware, this could be the last straw into sickly overload.
Yet as a kid, it was persisted. Utterly within the simplicity of it.