There's one at every party. You're chatting with a nice young man (who's okay, maybe a bit of a narcissist), when you hear that clomp-clomp-clomp and an obnoxious voice saying far too loudly, "I don't need someone to steer me - I'm half-horse and half-man. Did you know that about me?" Why can't centaurs be more like wood nymphs: the strong, silent type?
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