I dont think it would be fun being a Christmas beetle. You hatch from an egg, walk around for a day, and die under the pie warmer, or if you are one of the lucky ones, under the newspaper stands.
The worse fates are reserved for those that mess with cars, ending up smashed as a smudge on a windscreen, or crushed as a white splotch of mangled leg and wing on a driveway.
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e :
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tel : Dream on buster!
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