At first, it seems necessary.
You need to make a change. Loose lips sink ships, and you could break the Titanic in half with all the spit you’ve swapped, if you, like, froze it.
So you swear off the deliciously salty taste of desperation. It’s time to grow up and show some self respect. Every kiss should be special, so that — by the scientific process of logic — includes the next kiss, and any and all facemashes ever after. At least that’s what mainstream “having morals doesn’t make you not a feminist” society makes you believe that you should believe.
Anyway, mouths are disgusting. Carbon dioxide comes out of there. Carbon dioxide obviously smells bad, especially in the morning. Who likes carbon dioxide? I know what you’re thinking: “Trees do.” Well, then go kiss a tree, you damn Hippie! And get a job! And maybe even: “Mosquitos also like…
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