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How do I know I’m not cake?
Oh no, it’s happening again…
I already know my wife is poundcake.
I knew it too. I pounded her last night.
“Icing on the cake”
This isn’t the dystopia I was expecting
He’s convinced she’s his wife before he hugged her, so I surmise she’s the 2030 version of the ninja log…
…Just before he could hug her, she replaced herself with a cake. That really is dedication on her part!
substitution jutsu