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So it happened on one windy, cold, wet night that Ted began to plan his next human-flesh feast. He couldn't decide how to cook his ex wife once she was finally dead. Would fried be tastier than baked? 

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....and went to plan B. If his ex wife would not taste good, who else should he consider killing and eating? Could he even eat part of himself, a finger perhaps, or chunk of thigh? He stared down at himself, his hand clenched tightly over a sharp knife...

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