mr. arthur had no idea what he would say to billy knapp
Read "The Daughter Who Got Rattled," the Stewart Edward White Story That Inspired I Chapter of The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
The newest Coen brothers movie, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, is an anthology moving picture that draws heavily from ii sources: Hollywood westerns—including the long-abandoned singing cowboy genre—and the 19 th and early xx th century adventure stories. As a framing device, a manus turns the pages of a beautifully illustrated 19 th century short story collection between capacity. Ostensibly published by " Mike Zoss & Sons " in 1873, the fictional book The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and Other Tales of the American Frontier has no credited author for whatsoever of its half dozen stories. But two of the film'south chapters are adaptations of works that do have an author: "All Gold Coulee," which is based on a 1904 short story by Jack London of the aforementioned title , and "The Gal Who Got Rattled," an accommodation of Stewart Edward White'southward 1901 brusk story, "The Daughter Who Got Rattled." Both stories were start published in The Century Mag. Please note that both spoilers and belatedly nineteen thursday century ideas almost race and gender (i.e., extremely racist and misogynistic ones) follow.
While the Coens' version of "All Gilded Canyon" is a true-blue accommodation, their have on "The Girl Who Got Rattled" is a complete teardown. For starters, the Coens changed the master character: their version is nearly Alice and Gilbert Longabaugh (Jefferson Mays and Zoe Kazan) a brother and sister travelling with a wagon train to the Willamette Valley where Gilbert hopes to ally Alice off to a man of affairs he's trying to partner up with. Kazan's grapheme is naïve but not stupid, and over the form of the story, she becomes romantically involved with Billy Knapp (Bill Heck) one of the wagon train'southward guides. The curt story, which evinces an attitude towards women that could politely be described every bit "proto-incel," is instead about the other guide, Alfred—renamed Mr. Arthur (Grainger Hines) in the picture show—who is ill-at-ease effectually women, merely still manages to find his voice in a crisis. As for the story's version of Alice, she's no longer a milquetoast getting pushed around by her brother but "Miss Caldwell" , a spoiled rich kid who has forced her father to send her west to meet Deadwood. She's accompanied by her obnoxious fiancé, a boyfriend urban center-slicker, and the couple both please in teasing and tormenting the tongue-tied Alfred. In other words, it's about a hypercompetent human being who has secret strengths that women don't appreciate because he is socially awkward, preferring instead to date jerks, and information technology is structured and then that Alfred gets a chance to show off his skills earlier the adult female who has been rude to him receives her comeuppance. In that location'd be no way to faithfully conform that to the screen in 2018, so the Coens instead recentered their story on Kazan's character and turned her from a cartoon into someone with an inner life.
The principal thing that remains of White'south story in the film is the catastrophe, an attack from Native Americans depicted in both versions with the subtlety of a Hollywood Western, just the Coens have changed what that ending means. In print, there'south some sense of poetic justice: Alice takes neither Alfred nor the wilderness seriously, and this is what inevitably happens. On film, the Coens' Alice is more or less blameless, and the filmmakers spend a sadistic amount of fourth dimension showing her come into her own, going and so far as to found a possible future for her before she encounters the Native Americans, who serve roughly the same structural purpose (and get the same level of label) equally the wood chipper in Fargo. In other words, the Coen brothers substituted nihilism for the original recipe'due south misogyny, while keeping the levels of racism about the same. Despite all the changes, however, reading the original story makes it clear that this is non a Starship Troopers-style accommodation made by someone who hates the source material: White'due south prose mixes violence and night humor in a very Coen-brothers-y way on the sentence level—e.g., "Alfred would simply have bashfully killed him."
Here's "The Daughter Who Got Rattled," beginning published in The Century Magazine in 1901. You lot can too read Jack London's "All Gold Canyon" here .
–Matthew Dessem
This is 1 of the stories of Alfred. At that place are many of them still floating around the West, for Alfred was in his time very well known. He was a fiddling man, and he was bashful. That is the most that can be said against him; but he was very little and very bashful. When on horseback his legs hardly reached the lower body-line of his mount, and simply his farthermost agility enabled him to become on successfully. When on foot, strangers were inclined to call him "sonny." In company he never advanced an stance. If things did not go co-ordinate to his ideas, he reconstructed the ideas, and fabricated the best of it—just he could brand the most efficient best of the poorest ideas of any human on the plains. His attitude was a perpetual sidling apology. It has been said that Alfred killed his men diffidently, without enthusiasm, every bit though loth to have the responsibility, and this in the pioneer days on the plains was either frivolous arrayal, or else—Alfred. With women he was lost.
Men would have staked their last ounce of grit at odds that he had never in his life made a definite assertion of fact to one of the opposite sex activity. When it became absolutely necessary to alter a adult female'southward preconceived notions every bit to what she should do—as, for example, discouraging her riding through quicksand—he would persuade somebody else to issue the advice. And he would cower in the groundwork blushing his cool lilliputian blushes at his 2d-hand temerity. Add together to this narrow, sloping shoulders, a soft voice, and a diminutive pinkish-and-white face.
But Alfred could read the prairie like a book. He could ride anything, shoot accurately, was at middle afraid of goose egg, and could fight like a lilliputian catamount when occasion for it actually arose. Among those who knew, Alfred was considered one of the best scouts on the plains. That is why Caldwell, the capitalist, engaged him when he took his daughter out to Deadwood.
Miss Caldwell was determined to go to Deadwood. A limited feel of the lady'southward sort, where they have wooden floors to the tents, towels to the tent-poles, and expert cooks to the delectation of the campers, had convinced her that "roughing it" was her favorite recreation. And then, of form, Caldwell senior had, sooner or later, to take her across the plains on his almanac trip. This was at the time when carriage-trains went past way of Pierre on the n, and the South Fork on the due south. Incidental Indians, of homicidal tendencies and undeveloped ideas every bit to the propriety of doing what they were told, made things interesting occasionally, merely not often. At that place was actually no danger to a good-sized railroad train.
The daughter had a fiancé named Allen who liked roughing it, too; then he went along. He and Miss Caldwell rigged themselves out bountifully, and prepared to enjoy the trip.
At Pierre the train of eight wagons was fabricated up, and they were joined by Alfred and Billy Knapp. These two men were interesting, but tyrannical on one or two points–such equally getting out of sight of the train, for example. They were as well scarce in reasons for their tyranny. The young people chafed, and, finding Billy Knapp either imperturbable or thick-skinned, they turned their attending to Alfred. Allen annoyed Alfred, and Miss Caldwell thoughtlessly approved of Allen. Betwixt them they succeeded often in shocking fearfully all the little man's finer sensibilities. If it had been a question of Allen alone, the annoyance would soon take ceased. Alfred would simply have bashfully killed him. But because of his innate courtesy, which and then saturated him that his philosophy of life was thoroughly tinged by it, he was silent and inactive.
At that place is a smashing deal to recommend a plains journeying at first. Later, there is nothing at all to recommend it. Information technology has the same monotony as a voyage at sea, only there is less living room, and, instead of being carried, you must progress to a great extent by your ain will. Likewise the food is coarse, the water poor, and you cannot bathe. To a plainsman, or a homo who has the instinct, these things are as nothing in comparison with the charm of the outdoor life, and the pleasing tingling of adventure. But woman is a beast wedded to condolement. She likewise has a strange instinctive want to be entirely alone every once in a while, probably because her experiences, while not less numerous than man'due south, are mainly psychical, and she needs occasionally time to get "thought upward to date." So Miss Caldwell began to get very impatient.
The afternoon of the sixth day Alfred, Miss Caldwell, and Allen rode along adjacent. Alfred was telling a self-effacing story of chance, and Miss Caldwell was listening carelessly because she had null else to exercise. Allen chaffed lazily when the fancy took him.
"I happened to accept a limb broken at the time," Alfred was observing, parenthetically, in his soft tones, "and so—"
"What kind of a limb?" asked the young Easterner, with straight brutality. He glanced with a half-humorous aside at the girl, to whom the fiddling man had been mainly addressing himself.
Alfred hesitated, blushed, lost the thread of his tale, and finally in great confusion reined dorsum his horse by the harsh Spanish chip. He fell to the rear of the lilliputian wagon-railroad train, where he hung his head, and went hot and common cold by turns in thinking of such an indiscretion earlier a lady.
The young Easterner spurred up on the right of the girl's mountain.
"He'south the queerest niggling beau I always saw!" he observed, with a laugh. "Sad to spoil his story.
Was it a adept 1?"
"It might have been if you hadn't spoiled it," answered the daughter, flicking her horse's ears mischievously. The fauna danced. "What did yous do it for?"
"Oh, merely to run across him squirm. He'll think about that all the rest of the afternoon, and will hardly dare look you in the face next time you come across."
"I know. Isn't he funny? The other morning he came around the corner of the wagon and defenseless me with my hair down. I wish y'all could have seen him!"
She laughed gayly at the memory.
"Permit's get ahead of the dust," she suggested.
They drew bated to the firm turf of the prairie and put their horses to a slow lope. Once well ahead of the canvas-covered schooners they slowed down to a walk again.
"Alfred says nosotros'll see them tomorrow," said the girl.
"Come across what?"
"Why, the Hills! They'll bear witness like a dark streak, down past that butte there—what's its proper noun?"
"Porcupine Tail.
"Oh, yes. And after that it's merely three days. Are yous glad?"
"Are you?"
"Yes, I believe I am. This life is fun at first, but there's a sure monotony in making your toilet where y'all have to duck your head considering you haven't room to heighten your hands, and this barreled water palls after a time. I remember I'll exist glad to see a house again. People like camping almost and so long—"
"It hasn't gone dorsum on me nonetheless."
"Well, you lot're a man and tin can practice things."
"Can't you do things?"
"You know I can't. What do you suppose they'd say if I were to ride out just that way for two miles? They'd accept a fit."
"Who'd have a fit? Nobody merely Alfred, and I didn't know you'd gotten afraid of him yet! I say, just let's! We'll accept a race, and so come correct back." The boyfriend looked boyishly eager.
"It would exist nice," she mused. They gazed into each other's optics similar a pair of children, and laughed.
"Why shouldn't we?" urged the young man. "I'm expressionless sick of staying in the moving circle of these confounded wagons. What's the sense of information technology all, anyway?"
"Why, Indians, I suppose," said the daughter, doubtfully.
"Indians!" he replied, with contempt. "Indians! Nosotros haven't seen a sign of 1 since we left Pierre. I don't believe there'due south one in the whole blasted land. Besides, y'all know what Alfred said at our concluding camp?"
"What did Alfred say?"
"Alfred said he hadn't seen even a teepee-trail, and that they must be all upwards hunting buffalo. Likewise that, yous don't imagine for a moment that your father would take you all this way to Deadwood just for a lark, if in that location was the slightest danger, do you?"
"I don't know; I made him."
She looked out over the long sweeping descent to which they were coming, and the long sweeping ascent that lay beyond. The breeze and the sunday played with the prairie grasses, the breeze riffling them over, and the sun silvering their under surfaces thus exposed. It was strangely peaceful, and ane almost expected to hear the hum of bees as in a New England orchard. In information technology all was no sign of life.
"We'd go lost," she said, finally.
"Oh, no, we wouldn't!" he asserted with all the eagerness of the apprentice plainsman. "I've got that all figured out. You see, our railroad train is going on a line with that butte behind us and the dominicus. So if we become ahead, and keep our shadows only pointing to the butte, we'll exist correct in their line of march."
He looked to her for admiration of his cleverness. She seemed convinced. She agreed, and sent him back to her wagon for some commodity of invented necessity. While he was gone she slipped softly over the little loma to the right, cantered rapidly over 2 more, and slowed down with a sigh of satisfaction. One alone could watch the directing shadow every bit well equally two. She was complimentary and alone. It was the 1 matter she had desired for the last six days of the long plains journeying, and she enjoyed it now to the full. No one had seen her go. The drivers droned stupidly forth, as was their wont; the occupants of the wagons slept, as was their wont; and the diminutive Alfred was hiding his blushes behind clouds of dust in the rear, as was non his wont at all. He had been severely shocked, and he might have brooded over it all the afternoon, if a discovery had non startled him to activeness.
On a bare spot of the prairie he discerned the print of a hoof. It was non that of one of the train'south animals. Alfred knew this, because just to i side of it, defenseless under a grass-blade so cunningly that simply the little lookout man'due south eyes could have discerned information technology at all, was a unmarried bluish bead. Alfred rode out on the prairie to right and left, and found the hoof-prints of about thirty ponies. He pushed his chapeau back and wrinkled his brow, for the i affair he was looking for he could not find—the 2 narrow furrows fabricated by the ends of teepee-poles dragging along on either side of the ponies. The absenteeism of these indicated that the band was equanimous entirely of bucks, and bucks were likely to mean mischief.
He pushed alee of the whole political party, his eyes fixed earnestly on the basis. At the meridian of the colina he encountered the young Easterner. The latter looked puzzled, in a half-humorous way.
"I left Miss Caldwell here a half-minute agone," he observed to Alfred, "and I guess she'south given me the slip. Scold her practiced for me when she comes in—will you?" He grinned, with good-natured malice at the idea of Alfred's scolding anyone.
Then Alfred surprised him.
The little homo straightened suddenly in his saddle and uttered a fervent expletive. Afterwards a brief circle most the prairie, he returned to the beau.
"You go back to th' wagons, and wake upward Billy Knapp, and tell him this—that I've gone scoutin' some, and I want him to scout out. Empathize? Sentinel out!"
"What?" began the Easterner, bewildered.
"I'chiliad a-goin' to find her," said the little man, incomparably.
"You don't think there's any danger, do you?" asked the Easterner, in anxious tones. "Tin can't I help you?"
"Y'all do as I tell you," replied the little human being, shortly, and rode away.
He followed Miss Caldwell'south trail quite quickly, for the trail was fresh. Equally long as he looked attentively for hoof-marks, zip was to exist seen, the prairie was manifestly virgin; but by glancing the eye forty or fifty yards ahead, a faint line was discernible through the grasses.
Alfred came upon Miss Caldwell seated quietly on her horse in the very center of a prairie-canis familiaris town, and and then, of form, in the midst of an expanse of comparatively desert character. She was agreeable herself by watching the marmots as they barked, or watched, or peeped at her, according to their altitude from her. The sight of Alfred was not welcome, for he frightened the marmots.
When he saw Miss Caldwell, Alfred grew bashful again. He sidled his horse upwardly to her and blushed.
"I'll show you th' mode back, miss," he said, diffidently.
"Cheers," replied Miss Caldwell, with a slight coldness, "I can find my own style back."
"Yes, of course," hastened Alfred, in an agony. "Merely don't you think we ought to start back now? I'd like to go with y'all, miss, if you'd let me. You see the afternoon's quite tardily."
Miss Caldwell cast a quizzical centre at the lord's day.
"Why, it's hours yet till dark!" she said, amusedly.
Then Alfred surprised Miss Caldwell.
His diffident manner suddenly left him. He jumped like lightning from his equus caballus, threw the reins over the brute's caput so he would stand, and ran effectually to face Miss Caldwell.
"Here, jump downwards!" he commanded.
The soft Southern burr of his ordinary conversation had given place to a clear incisiveness. Miss Caldwell looked at him amazed.
Seeing that she did not at one time obey, Alfred really began to fumble hastily with the straps that held her riding-brim in place. This was and so unusual in the bashful Alfred that Miss Caldwell roused and slipped lightly to the ground.
"Now what?" she asked.
Alfred, without replying, drew the bit to within a few inches of the animal'south hoofs, and tied both fetlocks firmly together with the double-loop. This brought the pony'southward nose downwards close to his shackled feet. So he did the same matter with his own brute. Thus neither animal could so much every bit hobble ane way or the other. They were securely moored.
Alfred stepped a few paces to the east. Miss Caldwell followed.
"Sit downward," said he.
Miss Caldwell obeyed with some nervousness. She did not empathise at all, and that made her afraid. She began to take a dim fear lest Alfred might have gone crazy. His next move strengthened this suspicion. He walked away ten anxiety and raised his hand over his head, palm forward. She watched him so intently that for a moment she saw nothing else. Then she followed the direction of his gaze, and uttered a picayune sobbing weep.
Just beneath the sky-line of the first slope to eastward was silhouetted a figure on horseback. The effigy on horseback sat motionless.
"We're in for fight," said Alfred, coming dorsum after a moment. "He won't reply my peace-sign, and he's a Sioux. We can't make a run for it through this dog-boondocks. We've only got to stand 'em off."
He threw down and dorsum the lever of his quondam 44 Winchester, and softly uncocked the arm. Then he sat down by Miss Caldwell.
From various directions, silently, warriors on horseback sprang into sight and moved dignifiedly toward the first-comer, forming at the final a band of peradventure thirty men. They talked together for a moment, and and so ane by one, at regular intervals, discrete themselves and began circling at total speed to the left, throwing themselves backside their horses, and yelling shrill-voiced, simply firing no shot as still.
"They'll rush the states," speculated Alfred. "We're too few to monkey with this way. This is a bluff."
The circle most the ii was now consummate. Subsequently watching the whirl of figures a few minutes, and the motionless landscape beyond, the middle became dizzied and confused.
"They won't have no picnic," went on Alfred, with a trivial chuckle. "Dog-hole'south as bad fer them as fer us. They don't know how to fight. If they was to come in on all sides, I couldn't handle 'em, but they always rush in a agglomeration, like damn fools!" and then Alfred became suffused with blushes, and commenced to apologise abjectly and profusely to a girl who had heard neither the word nor its atonement. The savages and the approaching fight were all she could retrieve of.
Suddenly one of the Sioux threw himself forward under his horse'due south neck and fired. The bullet went wild, of course, but it shrieked with the ascension inflection of a wind-squall through bared boughs, seeming to come ever nearer. Miss Caldwell screamed and covered her face up. The savages yelled in chorus.
The one shot seemed to exist the bespeak for a spattering fire all along the line. Indians never clean their rifles, rarely get good ammunition, and are scarce in the philosophy of hind-sights. Besides this, information technology is not easy to shoot at long range in a constrained position from a running horse.
Alfred watched them contemptuously in silence.
"If they go on that upward long enough, the wagon-train may hear 'em," he said, finally. "Wisht we weren't so far to nor-rard. At that place, it'southward comin'!" he said, more excitedly.
The primary had paused, and, as the warriors came to him, they threw their ponies back on their haunches, and sat motionless. They turned, the ponies' heads toward the two.
Alfred arose deliberately for a improve expect.
"Yes, that's right," he said to himself, "that's old Lonely Pine, certain thing. I reckon we-all's got to brand a good fight!"
The girl had sunk to the ground, and was shaking from head to foot. It is not nice to be shot at in the best of circumstances, but to be shot at by odds of thirty to one, and the thirty of an outlandish and terrifying species, is not nice at all. Miss Caldwell had gone to pieces badly, and Alfred looked grave. He thoughtfully drew from its holster his beautiful Colt's with its ivory handle, and laid it on the grass. So he blushed hot and common cold, and looked at the girl doubtfully. A sudden movement in the group of savages, as the war-master rode to the front end, decided him.
"Miss Caldwell," he said.
The girl shivered and moaned.
Alfred dropped to his knees and shook her shoulder roughly.
"Wait up here," he commanded. "We own't got but a minute."
Composed a little past the firmness of his tone, she sat upwardly. Her confront had gone chalky, and her pilus had partly fallen over her eyes.
"Now, listen to every word," he said, chop-chop. "Those Injins is goin' to rush us in a minute. P'r'aps I can break them, simply I don't know. In that pistol at that place, I'll always save two shots—empathize?—It's always loaded. If I see it's all up, I'1000 a-goin' to shoot you with one of 'em, and myself with the other."
"Oh!" cried the girl, her optics opening wildly. She was paying close enough attention now.
"And if they kill me first"—he reached forward and seized her wrist impressively—"if they impale me first, you must take that pistol and shoot yourself. Sympathise? Shoot yourself—in the head—here!"
He tapped his forehead with a stubby forefinger.
The girl shrank back in horror. Alfred snapped his teeth together and went on grimly.
"If they get hold of you," he said, with solemnity, "they'll kickoff take off every run up of your clothes, and when you're quite naked they'll stretch you out on the ground with a raw-hibernate to each of your artillery and legs. And and then they'll drive a stake through the center of your body into the ground—and leave you at that place—to die—slowly!"
And the girl believed him, because, incongruously enough, even through her terror she noticed that at this, the most immodest speech of his life, Alfred did not chroma. She looked at the pistol lying on the turf with horrified fascination.
The grouping of Indians, which had upwards to now remained fully a 1000 yards away, suddenly screeched and broke into a run directly toward the dog-town.
In that location is an indescribable rush in a charge of savages. The little ponies make their feet go so fast, the feathers and trappings of the warriors stream backside then frantically, the whole mental attitude of horse and homo is so eager, that one gets an impression of fearful speed and resistless power. The horizon seems total of Indians.
As if this were not sufficiently terrifying, the air is throbbing with audio. Each Indian pops away for general results every bit he comes jumping along, and yells shrilly to show what a big warrior he is, while underneath it all is the hurried monotone of hoof-beats becoming always louder, as the roar of an increasing rainstorm on the roof. It does not seem possible that anything can stop them.
Yet in that location is one affair that tin can finish them, if skillfully taken advantage of, and that is their lack of discipline. An Indian volition fight hard when cornered, or when heated by lively resistance, only he hates to go into it in cold blood. As he nears the opposing rifle, this feeling gets stronger. So frequently a man with nervus enough to hold his fire, can suspension a fierce accuse merely by waiting until it is within fifty yards or and so, so suddenly raising the cage of his gun. If he had gone to shooting at in one case, the matter would have go a combat, and the Indians would have ridden him downward. As information technology is, each has had time to think. Past the fourth dimension the white man is ready to shoot, the suspense has done its work. Each vicious knows that just one will fall, but, cold-blooded, he does not want to be that one; and, since in such disciplined fighters it is each for himself, he promptly ducks behind his mount and circles away to the correct or the left. The whole band swoops and divides, like a flock of swift-winged terns on a windy day.
This Alfred relied on in the approaching crisis.
The girl watched the wild sweep of the warriors with strained eyes. She had to grasp her wrist firmly to go on from fainting, and she seemed incapable of thought. Alfred sat motionless on a domestic dog-mound, his rifle across his lap. He did non seem in the least disturbed.
"It'south practiced to fight again," he murmured, gently fondling the stock of his rifle. "Come on, ye devils! Oho!" he cried as a warrior'southward equus caballus went down in a dog-pigsty, "I thought so!"
His optics began to shine.
The ponies came skipping here and in that location, nimbly dodging in and out betwixt the dog-holes. Their riders shot and yelled wildly, merely none of the bullets went lower than 10 feet. The circle of their accelerate looked somehow like the surge shoreward of a not bad moving ridge, and the similarity was heightened by the nodding glimpses of the light eagles' feathers in their hair.
The run across the dear-combed plainly was hazardous—even to Indian ponies—and 3 went down boot, one afterward the other. Two of the riders lay stunned. The tertiary sat up and began to rub his knee. The pony belonging to Miss Caldwell, condign frightened, threw itself and lay on its side, kicking out aimlessly with its hind legs.
At the proper moment Alfred artsy his rifle and rose swiftly to his knees. As he did so, the mound on which he had been kneeling caved into the hole beneath it, and threw him forwards on his face up. With a furious curse, he sprang to his anxiety and levelled his rifle at the thick of the press.
The scheme worked. In a flash every barbarous disappeared behind his pony, and nothing was to be seen but an arm and a leg. The band divided on either hand as promptly as though the bespeak for such a drill had been given, and swept gracefully effectually in ii long circles until it reined up motionless at nearly the verbal point from which it had started on its imposing charge. Alfred had not fired a shot.
He turned to the girl with a short laugh.
She lay confront upwardly on the footing, staring at the sky with broad-open, horror-stricken eyes. In her brow was a small blackened hole, and under her head, which lay strangely flat against the earth, the grasses had turned red. Near her mitt lay the heavy Colt's 44.
Alfred looked at her a infinitesimal without winking. And so he nodded his head.
"It was 'cause I cruel down that hole—she idea they'd got me!" he said aloud to himself. "Pore lilliputian gal! She hadn't ough't to have did it!"
He blushed deeply, and, turning his face away, pulled down her skirt until it covered her ankles. Then he picked upwardly his Winchester and fired three shots. The first striking directly back of the ear one of the stunned Indians who had fallen with his horse. The second went through the other stunned Indian'south chest. The third defenseless the Indian with the cleaved leg between the shoulders merely every bit he tried to get behind his struggling pony.
Presently after, Billy Knapp and the wagon-railroad train came along.
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Source: https://slate.com/culture/2018/11/ballad-buster-scruggs-coen-brothers-steward-edward-white-girl-gal-rattled-full-text.html
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