“You mean measles,” she says.
“Oh no, Kneesles.” So they continue undressing each other, unfazed. Until she noticed his crooked toes.
“Ah, I also contracted toelio.”
“Don’t you mean polio?”
“No, I got toelio.” Bored by his denials, she shrugs it off. Until he drops his pants.
“Don’t tell me,” she laughs. “Smallcox…”
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