I must not hiccup. Hiccups are the mood-killer. Hiccups are the little-death that brings total dissatisfaction. I will face my hiccups. I have no choice but to permit them to pass over me and through me.
My faaaavourite thing about this is that little-death translates to 'petite mort' in French, which is in modern usage to mean 'the sensation of orgasm as likened to death'.
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*pouts*
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I know, right?!?
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