Competition: Describe What You Think Is Happening Here & Win!

Filed in Horoscopes

Describe what you think is going on here – the back-story, the front-story, the anything you like story – to be in for a chance to win these epic Snake Wisdom Goddess Elixirs or a One Hour Skype consult with me!

The Skype consult can be as broad or as narrow a focus as you want is instant message so you end up with a transcript to print out and read in bed while  you plot your Jupiter in Scorpio phoenix stunt.

The Goddess Elixirs are stunning. They are made with full focus on alchemy, the doctrine of correspondences and the appropriate astrological signature to fit the vibe of the remedy.  The link for all the information and i am looking forward to reading all your entries in the comments.

Also if you’re not feeling witty or like this picture speaks to you, remember that every New Moon now there are prizes for the top commenters and for the top social sharers.

Image: Yale Joel

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103 thoughts on “Competition: Describe What You Think Is Happening Here & Win!

  1. Hey MM what a great comp! So many great stories! Cannot wait for the next one : ) congrats guys!

    On a Astro note how retro is it! The amount of R next to half the solar system is wack!

  2. AGAIN it is SO difficult to choose just two winners – i love these so much and appreciate the wit & surreal whimsy shown here.

    BUT okay – this week’s winners ARE Rubent (this is kind of Ballardian) for the Goddess Drops and Sagitta for the consult with me – please email me to claim your prizes!

  3. “She’s Been Mused”

    Mystical Mary sauntered down what felt like an eternal hall, supposing she’d be in the portal for a while. It wasn’t often she was able to get her hands on such a potent Moonshroom tincture, during a solar eclipse no less. She’d been stuck in an inspirational rut ever since her ex torched all of her canvases, and thought a little lunar tintcure might help her find her spark again. She wasn’t sure where it went off to, but she wasn’t above calling on other realms to help her find it.

    As she wondered to herself if she had too much of a good thing too soon (does the bottle really go bad an hour after you open it, or was her guru a bit of a lush??), a loud knock began to reverberate from the door at the end of the hall. A cacophony of voices sang out at once.


    Mary stopped in her tracks, her velvet umbra heel sliding off her dainty pedal of a foot.


    Mary grinned like The Fool as she resumed her catwalk to tonight’s destination, a bountiful bunch of perfectly ripened bananas softly hitting her shoulders as if to pat her on the back. “I was wondering why I kept picturing fruit in my meditation this morning. Glad I trusted my gut and swiped these off the dining cart in front of room 222.”

    As she got closer to the door, the carpet beneath her feet began to transform with each step. The light began to change around her, as if rapid-fire sunrises and sunsets became her aura. As she placed her hand on the doorknob she exclaimed, “This has already made quite the impression on me!”

    A voice snorted and sighed from behind the door, “Allez! Un petit effort… everyone makes zees joke to me.” Mary’s skin felt aflame as she pushed the door open and tripped into a painterly pond filled with luminous lily pads.

    “IT’S ABOUT TIME!” the voices colllectively giggled as Mary caught her breath after her fall, arse soaked and bananas wading about her thighs. A small ball of light zipped about Mary’s line of sight as if to wake her up, “Glad you got the message about wearing a bathing suit! Claude’s in one of his water phases again.”

    A bearded man laughed loudly from behind a giant canvas. “Come, come, mon cheri… tell me about zees naztee bloc d’artiste.”

  4. THANK YOU MYSTIC! This picture spoke and I had to dig.

    Truman fears the threats of world war three as the Chiquita empire grows, while Charles Morton’s career is based on observing such ironies as editor of the Atlantic Monthly.

    His pet peeve? Inelegant variants for – example at hand – the banana, whereby the journalist used the phrase “elongated yellow fruit” in his news about baiting rogue monkeys. Morton began to collect more examples; numbered spheroids (billiard balls), lacteal fluid (milk) and succulent bivalves (oysters) as a literary pundit.

    His reputation gives opportunity to sell his self-help book, “How to Protect Yourself Against Women and Other Vicissitudes.” This collection of published essays deals with topics from wedding gifts, to drinks with women and how to cook a roast. He’s also got advice on the way to a man’s heart, how to make your book a best-seller, husbands-in-waiting and whether they can be taught.

    Cigarette pursed between lips, this water-carrying haute leo model saunters back to her dressing room with contraband in hand. She’s just finished musing Morton’s guests and colleagues at his successful promotional launch. It entertaining banter, champagne poured into her heels and swimming in goldfish aquarium. All in a day’s work for this consummate professional.

    When I see this photo and think about the Trumped sense of loss this republic is experiencing, I feel. Here is the American Dream of Yankees declaring “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” through the Declaration of Independence, while Billy Holiday sings about the strange fruit hanging from the southern poplar trees.

  5. Popping in on a dark moon pre eclipse. Not commenting much these days but still reading the blog here and there in a Gemmy skim fashion but… I only thought of one thing when I saw this image and thought I’d share for fun. Long post warning and apologies folks.

    On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair…
    Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air…

    She kicked an invisible tyre as she wandered around the hallway for what… how many times had she seen room 6 now.. what lap was this, and where was the door that said exit, a lift or fire escape stairs.. she tried to piece together what had happened though and her head hurt as the scattered thoughts collided with each other trying to form a cohesive sentence. Champagne.. she knew better but she was keeping what was left in this bottle as an emergency supply. Where was everyone?

    Ah yes the bloody rental blew a tyre in between towns. She’d kicked at it and cursed when she realised she was out of mobile range. Yes, the sunset was lovely but there was nothing here and who knew how long.. and oh, are they headlights approaching? Relieved she walked to the drivers door and stood leaning against it until the car drew near.

    As it approached it the car slowed to an easy stop. The passenger window slid down silently revealing a sizzling looking man.. ‘can I help you ma’am’? Yes, yes I think you can she said mesmerized by his smile. The spare was flat so he popped it in the boot and she got in the car without as much as a second thought. The next town was 20 miles… and it passed quickly, one might say in a bit of a blur actually once he passed the bud but they’d laughed and the conversation flowed so easily and… and… her synapses stalled.. grinding to an awkward thud, she couldn’t complete the sentence and in frustration she continued to walk the halls….

    Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light…
    My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night…

    Wait.. after sun had set fully they drove for a while in the night and then a light appeared in the distance. He mentioned something about stopping briefly. She didn’t recall getting out of the car. Perhaps she blacked out briefly… she must have, surely or perhaps she’s actually dreaming now because there was that big room with chandelier’s and heavy velvet curtains.. wasn’t there? So many people in masks and costumes and she need not have taken another toke but as it hung thick in the air with the laughter and music.

    Aw she’s lovely Joe.. just perfect.. he popped a glass of bubbles in her hand. Hang on, was it Joe or damn, what was his name? Was she giggling at the flattery and attention Take her out back and get her ready to join the feast. Your costume is waiting for you as well.? Costume?! She kept walking and settled on Joe whether it was or not perhaps just to eliminate another missing piece.

    Ah, yes there was an animal, a gorilla and she was in a top hat with boots and… circus music gently filtered through the closed door of room 14 and what sounded like distant chatter and laughter. She’d knocked on one round but nobody answered. Maybe she’d knocked on all the doors? Circus music.. oh yeah, that’s right she was a Ring Leader and Joe was her trained gorilla. Yeeees… oh…. NO!! Her face flushed and she slammed the door shut on the flood of thoughts that started to race through it in her mind. Where were the rest of her clothes? She felt she might be able to bribe Gorilla Joe or whatever his name was to give them to her when she found him. Where was he anyway? Where was the bloody door out of here? Not a single exit sign to be found and not another soul except for that mannequin dressed as a Captain who stood in the doorway of a big drawing room that had an odd echo. He was no conversationalist and no help and he seemed to leer at her from behind his waxy eyes with an almost faint smile.. did it reminded her of Joe.. the window of his car rolling down… the Captain seemed to be saying ‘can I help you ma’am’. There was a painting on the wall inside of a risqué masquerade party in full swing that seemed to trigger a familiarity but that was surely as the painting was of that actual room.

    She found herself at Room 14 again and this time it was silent, no laughter, no music just a crisp white card with the name Lilah written on the front. Where did that come from? For a moment she remembered herself. She felt real and allowed herself a slight smile. She opened the card. All it said was ‘Welcome to the Hotel California’. The music started up again behind the door….

  6. Clearly her client has an expansive and kinky appetite for big bananas – and to handle these tricks, she needs to get smashed on champas!

  7. Day 4 of the GM diet – bananas and milk. Milk disguised in a champagne bottle cause she knows and lives her brand. She’s already lost three kilos and she’s rocking the suit!

  8. She’d been hitchhiking all day since the team meeting turned mass walk out at the massage parlour she worked at in The Valley.

    Her Virgoan Sun Pluto conjuction square her Sagittariun Mars gave her true grit and trigger finger when it came to The Man

    Making it to Murwillumbah, she and her Aquarian comrade took the bananas they bought at the honesty box at a empty stall outside Uki and the bottle of Asti the barmaid found to help them celebrate.

  9. Girl is weighed down with some merde from the past, but she is walking toward her best life. Underwear, high heels, and a deep pore cleaning mask on her face. Bananas to make smoothies forever and keep her potassium up. Champagne because the ride is going to be rough. She’ll be holed up in her hotel room until the storm has passed. And when it has – be ready – because she will be ready for you.

  10. “Doing a most elegant Walk of Shame after the Great American Eclipse, Delores had no regrets about her choices in men or fruit.”

      • Thank you! I’ve been a subscriber for a little while, but this is my first post. I thought this picture was a hoot and had to respond.
        Your reply to the pic is awesome, and congrats on winning a consult with Mystic! Lucky and Lucky!

  11. Simple. A dazzling Leo rising dance star has her third Lilith return and she has realized that she is a self sufficient Capricorn so after the cabaree show she is going to enjoy the rest of the evening in her hotel room – by herself. Some nice champagne and the bananas from her fabulous hair piece. What else could she possibly need? Maybe a ‘Do not disturb’ sign, tops.

  12. She is pisces, of course. After an excessively dull year in cold and gray Scandinavia, she left the plane in Rio thirsty for glamour. Before letting her friends and family know of her arrival in the tropical paradise, she checked in at the legendary Copacabana Palace.

    Bubble bathing in Amazon scented salts, soothed her cold body and lifted her spirit. She was starting to feel like herself again. There was something missing, though… but she knew exactly where to find it.

    Jumping into her swimsuit and called the room service:
    – I am going to have breakfast on the beach with someone very special. Can you please send me your freshest bunch of bananas and your coolest bottle of champagne?

    And so went she! Out to the beach to toast and have a feast with the most luxurious company of all: the magnificent Brazilian sun.

  13. Jane had tried everything to keep it together and to bring back the romance they had shared before they moved to LA. Yet his appetite for life waned with every day that passed, and worst of all – for her as well. She had the Studio decorate their room with vines and jungle motifs – even had their mattress elevated to a platform between two trees she had installed. Yet as the witch-doctor had warned before they left their jungle home in Africa – she would lose her man in a place where the night met noon – or some such nonsense. She had dismissed this as an over-emotional parting sentiment from the cantankerous old witch-doctor.

    In hindsight things always reveal themselves, Jane mused. The darkness that enveloped that fateful day, not only took over the midday sun but also Tarzan’s already disturbed mind. This had been the tilting point for him – this had been one incomprehensible evil too many in this infernal concrete jungle. His spirit broke. As did the lucrative MGM contract which had seduced Jane into moving to Hollywood with her wild man whose physical attributes were to be extolled on the silver screen.

    At least she had the chimp. Together, she and Cheeta had an act at a basement club in Downtown LA. Her agent had fixed it in exchange for room and board and just enough to keep Tarzan at the shrink and Cheeta in bananas. It’s the least he could do.

    Jane and Cheeta kept the show running. Some days were easier than others, but then other days the words of the witch-doctor would haunt and weigh down on her: “Beware the Lion Moon where night meets noon.”

    • Thank you for this amazing entry.
      I was once asked this question “Ma’ma what time is noon?”
      It’s an exam situation that I am hired to keep an eye on this generation, at an elite all boys school (Seniors). Sure teachering manners from the dark ages, is one thing.
      It was the “Ma’ma” that saddles up my crazy like you have never seen.
      No problemo…this boy is pretty and can bat those baby blues but I’ve been struck by dumb. The head of studies explains “It’s the fault of the wording on the exam paper question.” That’s why he didn’t know the answer. My shoes are too noisy for this women.
      Just give the kid a digital watch and forget about reading where the big and little hands are on a clock face. Out sourcing of parental controls gone mad.

  14. Hot August night # 3 of an epic bender. Channelling my inner Josephine Baker as the serotonin peaked and neurons sang again, I knew I had to step out into the hot Paris night and buy bananas. On a string. So I could make a banana skirt. For dancing. It all made superb sense. The universe wants me to do this. The eclipse demanded it. But I knew I couldn’t go out empty-handed like a crazy person. Of course: Champagne. Don’t question me.

  15. Thank goddess! Priscilla the Pisces thought as she made her way down the corridor–despite consuming more Baby Hawaiian Woodrose seeds than her Shaman ususally reccomended she had lucked out–no nausea this time. She put it down to the fact she’d had the presence of mind not to down them on an empty stomach. The banannas had worked their magic. It was all thr more suprising give the fact she had washed them down with ‘champers’ as she affectionately called that golden bubbly beverage kindly paid for by her the new acquaintance she’d met at the bar. Priscilla couldn’t remember his name, but she’d clocked him as a Leo, straight up. The hotel carpet was swirling now and walking felt like she was on her way to catch some exsistential train. “Keep your eyes on the road, your hand upon ther wheel” the doors song echoed in her mind. Speaking of doors, she couldn’t find her’s as her scorpio companion (where has he got to?) had been stuck with insomnia overnight and amused himself by unscrewing and transposing all the room numbers on their floor.

  16. A Leo Sun, Taurus Rising burlesque performer on her way to a colleague’s hotel room to chill/come down from the adrenalin high of the standing ovations with fellow burlesque performers/ musicians in a former Eastern Bloc city were the only non processed food she could find are bananas and she is ravenous. She’s bringing the dregs of bottle of sparkling wine used to pour over her body in her show (poured into a Champagne bottle pre-performance to look more expensive). Don’t judge! It’s midnight and the hotel bar is closed.

  17. This is what happens when you know what you want but The Moon knows best too.
    The Lunar Goddess spoke through her saying “Girl, not right now. Just pray for his soul for you know he still has that whole plutonic junkie valley to explore. Let’s not forget he still has his epic solo Saturn Return thing.”
    Sure some bonds are broken like a shattered martini glass of memories but not her Cottontails. Could she have pick pocketed his mind or just spoke the same language. So many questions and the yet I wonder do they still speak through the edge of time.
    Damn it all to heaven and why the hell didn’t he just call…especially when he has your home number.
    In this sporting life, he really should have given her the tshirt behind the bathroom door. Instead she took the fruit in front of him and bolted for daylight.
    There was no getting even, in the Garden of Eden.

  18. She’s thinking, “If this doesn’t work, I’m leaving him”. This was after reading about ‘food signatures’ & that bananas contain high registers of trytophan, bromalin and potassium.

  19. On the other side of the door, she could hear applause for Miss Venezuela—her talent was public speaking. Blah blah blah. She knew she’d blow them away with her Banana Walking routine.

    She rehearsed it in her mind:

    1. Throw three bananas in the air, catch one in each arm and one in her mouth. Squish the bananas and scatter the peels and bits on the floor.

    2. Throw a banana in the air and catch it with the toes of her left leg. Squish, scatter, yell “Yeeee haaa!” Throw a banana in the air and catch it with the toes of her right leg. Squish, scatter, yell “Yeeee haaa!”

    3. Shriek “you wanna bananaaaaa?” at the audience, peel the remaining bananas, one after another, scatter the peels on the stage, aim the little fruity torpedoes— Ooorahhhhh!!!!

    4. Cue the music. Place the bottle on her head and start banana-walking. Start hopping and skipping about on the stage. Pretend to slip on the peel. Screech. Regain control. Repeat.

    5. Take a bow.

  20. This image, quite simply, is my future life. Five year plan, done and done. Minus the bananas as I’m allergic, but substitute a shopping basket of various other tropical fruit.

  21. It was here, this weekend, at a small party in the Dominican Republic, that Estella Ramirez truly learnt what it was going to take to catapult herself to the next level.

    Three weeks earlier her agent and his wife, Johanna, had invited her to visit them on the island. There was a room already booked for her at Santiago’s Hotel Mercedes. Lately she had been having trouble sleeping – Estella wondered if she should not have told them. She was awoken by vivid dreams – after accepting the invitation from her agent, last night’s visions were beyond imagination – giant gateways, impossibly high, framed by lion-shaped constellations.

    Johanna had been raised on the island and had been known by some to engage the services of a Vudu priestess from time to time. Estella had benefited once or twice from these entreaties, more as extra-worldly guidance rather than open manipulation. She was a woman who stood proudly on her own talents after all.

    Little did Estella know that her life was not going to be simply a steady climb to the silver screen. Her birthplace was at a key location on the globe, a portal in fact, information discerned by Johanna and her friends – say, a newspaper critic, a Broadway actress, a wealthy philanthropist among them – in a top-secret meeting several weeks prior. Bones were thrown, gods were invoked, smoke was read. It was now understood that Estella’s services to the world would go well beyond the fashionable products of Metro Goldwyn Mayer. But there was no time to waste… Great forces were coming into play. Her unassailable position in the public eye, hence the kind of influence that only an entertainer could have in the current world, must begin to take shape now. Her previous years in New York honing her skills and developing her circles, had not been wasted. Not at all. But the group knew she needed a profile, and resources, and supporters from within.

    The people here!! ..mused Estella. It seemed some things could still surprise her, after all. Henty MacVain, doyenne of the stage in the Big Apple – she was just over there on the lounges, chatting to Giles Clark, the critic’s critic (and practically his own department at the New York Times) and Aby Rowenstein – Abigail, as the general public knew her, and her diamonds. Even a favourite classmate from dance school when Estella was a girl… what was going on?

    Suddenly a hush fell over the group. An ordinary-looking local woman had arrived in the doorway, Estella recognised her instantly of course. The Vudu priestess. A local woman hiding in plain sight with some shopping bags full of innocent looking things. Bottles of champagne and some hands of bananas, picked from the northeast hills at sunrise.

    A white bird landed softly on the open window sill. It was time.

  22. Liliana contemplated the grapes of wrath, then the lemons of umbrage and finally the bananas of botheration. Two weeks ago she had been the pick of the crop, the apple of her adoring public’s eye, a blazing bush that lit their eyes and teeth up in wonder. She had berry unique talents to be sure – not everyone could strike the right balance dangling from a chandelier like an over-ripe avocado (side note: avocados don’t actually ripen until you pick them and will stay harder than a hard thing until they are two weeks off a tree), whistling the theme song from Cannonball Run and performing a sensual strip-tease dressed as a monkey. It took hard work and dedication to pull that off! Total commitment, of which she was totally sure she was. Is. Has.

    But tonight, the worm had turned. Not only was her audience as dull as dirt, someone had dared cast a tomato on stage! A TOMATO – that most flustering of fruit! No, not a vegetable, but an Andean love-apple, destined to send Europe into a tizz once they figured out it wasn’t in fact a cricket ball, but a precursor to the Bloody Mary. They even thought it was poisonous because red or something, despite it being quaffed by every Mesoamerican and their llama since the beginning of Mayan time.

    Well, she thought to herself, because she was alone and not crazy, perhaps it was time for a fresh angle, a new shtick, something that would pluck at their heart stems and drop them into her waiting arm baskets. But not tonight – tonight she was going to get blasted on Fruity Lexia and paint her room orange, because that’s what you do when you’re at a creative cul de sac – vandalize hotel rooms and charge it to your alter-ego, Mrs Mangonificence the Third.
    It had worked before.

  23. S.S. Shapeshifters cast off from shore, only this Goddess, photographed, knows when.

    To a fanfare that would have rivaled the celebration of Isis as told by Lucius once she had restored him from a four legged beast back to his human form. To keep things somewhat modest – structured for maximum benefit – only in rooms would you find wavy truths, where all that is sanctioned for 3D sight drifts apart and the 528 hum begins to work. All public spaces, for the most part, remained under the charge of Wave’s brother Particle. These two being assigned the roles of Hotel and Deck Directors, though they mingled themselves in each other’s business as observation so compelled them.

    Here, at the end of the third floor, which is actually the 9th, (for the third floor is the only floor that twists throughout the ship like a horizontal spiral, so that segments of it become part of all other floors.)
    The last room, pictured here with door open, leads to the 10th floor that has only one room, the Captains abode and sanctuary. The belly of the ship with the best views on the ships. The Captain in question is pictured here. Idly sashaying home, after a length of time shape shifting among the ships inhabitant; in a costume that reminded all who caught sight of her, of something different, fondly desired, but only admired.
    At home, she divests all form and looks exactly as you imagine.

  24. Googled this press shot for Kim Fowley album Visions of the Future. Track 13 Mum and Dad tagline ‘long before rock n roll took control and tore my soul in two’. Long story short silverscreen romance–rodeo guy meets California beach babe-bananas are a beat-up–its all about the bubbles and boomin back at you in the Presidential Suite when somethin meant somethin

  25. Being a scorp, I’d say that’s me fetching supplies for myself (champagne) and my young lover (bananas). I need the liquid, he needs the nourishment mentally and physically. Bananas are perfect fuel; full of potassium.

  26. The original banana smoothie when health food and the sexual revolution made swallowing the horse de vers and the appertiff at a game twister all spelled hi jinx

  27. Josephine Baker’s assistant was weary but she trecked the hall with fresh bananas on a string and a bottle of cold Bollinger. Would she ever get see the beautiful Josephine not have to humiliate herself in swathed in banana costume?She pondered this thought as she swung her hips languidly along, while tilting her head down in still contemplation.

  28. The more she thought about it the less convinced she was that the Jane Goodall Institute was actually in any way involved in this gig. Sure, Bubbles was a nice enough primate, but there was no way that the ‘research demonstrations’ that she was giving were going to help her PhD candidature…

  29. After her weekend on space dust with the famous trapeze artists, Dino and Gino Laurentis, Laura knew that only bananas would help her brain produce the dopamine levels she required to complete her high wire performance that night. Diving from 50 ft into the arms of monkeys riding whippets was not what Laura had in mind when she left the convent to find her fortune. God knows how she ended up here ? It’s 5pm she thought, I’m on at 9. Time for a bath and a glass of bubbles.

  30. She’s tired of the show & the performance of it all. She’d rather sit back in her hotel room, pop her bottle…watch the bubbles as they race to the top of the crystal glass. Maybe eat a banana or maybe just sit and wonder what they look like hanging on a tree. She’s done with the show and ready to be by herself, lost in her own head where she is found once again.

  31. The diet was really working for her. She could now totally rock this outfit, so she strode into the supermarket gathered her next meal and headed back home. Only to be suruptisciously snapped by her neighbour in the hallway. She wasn’t at all upset she ended up on social media as she was about to start her vlog on the Bubbles Diet, an homage to Micheal Jackson’s chimp, living it up on champagne and bananas.

  32. She is taking the bananas to make the Choquita head-dress. Her friend has the feathers and other plummage in the hotel room. Woman is also tired AF, and grabbed a bottle of champagne off the bar. This is her profession. Was it always what she dreamed it would be as a kid?

  33. A man falls to his knees as he watches his addictions depart. He falls in shock at how close to destruction he brought himself and the world. He falls in gratitude for the lessons his addictions taught. He falls in reverence to the power of the lessons of the Devil. He falls in appreciation for the power of love to aid him on his journey to his own heart.

  34. weary Piscean Hollaback Girl era Gwen Stefani backup dancer walks downstairs to hit the town after raiding dismal minibar offerings

  35. The quiet and elegant Virgo actress Ann Darrow contentedly strolls back from a party in the green room to reward her fellow performer with some banana treats – another show well done!

    Some years back, Ann escorted Saggitarian King Kong to the United States, where, jovial and charming as he was, he was welcomed warmly.

    Despite legendary stories of his enormous size and early demise, the truth is he was just an unusually large simian and not of tower-like proportions (unless you count the proverbial brick out-house).

    Their act was a hit in small towns all over the Americas.

    King Kong finally settled outside San Jose, Costa Rica on a banana plantation where he was hosted for the rest of his long and happy life by it’s wealthy owner, Don Marco. In return for acting as King Kong’s patron and maintaining his luxurious lifestyle, Don Marco used Kong’s image for the company logo.

    Ann Darrow went on to some success performing in small theatres around the US. Every year Ann made time in her schedule for a visit to her friend in Costa Rica.

    (How I wish King Kong had ended 😉 )

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