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Alice From Wonderland Time, Alice From Wonderland Time Games, Play Alice From Wonderland Time Games

Apparently located in the far West colonies. Well, what are you doing there? Well, I’m delivering the Rolls to that grotesque Milton Krampf and retrieving a certain something in the process. Stay away from Krampf’s daughter. She’s a wellknown nymphomaniac. Is she? How do you know such things? Johanna, we seem to be out of ice. Should I send for some? It’s my husband on the line. Oh, is he still alive? Has he got the painting yet? Is that Martland? I’ll just be a moment, Alastair. That Judas! That Ajax! That Paris! Or was it Agamemnon? Oh, you know who I mean. That ghastly chap who stole Helen of Troy and started all that nasty business in Greece. Done! Finally! Charlie? Why are people achieving climax in your immediate vicinity? Well, I think I’m staying in some sort of cement brothel, my love. Say that again. You look here, I will have you know that I too am capable of being desirable to a certain type of woman! Charlie! Yes, oh, yes! Some women go blind batting their lashes for mustachioed men such as I! Charlie Mortdecai, you are on very dangerous ground! Tell me the name of that nympho daughter of Krampf’s! Perhaps she would render an opinion on the issue! Never mind. I’ve found a cold Latour which we might enjoy game Johanna? Oh, balls. Jock and I set off to deliver the Rolls to my client, Milton Krampf. Ruthless billionaire, art collector, and the rumored possessor of the lost Goya. I was hot on the scent, and a teensy bit curious about his nympho daughter. Yes game Right. We must secure the painting, escape this nightmare posthaste and you should interrupt me as soon as you can. Yes, sir. Lucky saddle. Yes! The fine lifegiving drinks tray manifests itself. A mint julep, sir. Anything will do, I thank you. I’m Georgina Krampf. Oh! How do you do? You must be Mortdecai. Yes, indeed I am he. Are you not having a little something to drink? No, I never drink alcohol. I don’t like to blunt my senses. How awful. Oh, I feel wonderful. Feel me. Feel? Oh. Oh, yes. No, not there, stupid. Here. Charlie Mortdecai,



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