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If Johnson had a tail right now, it would be tucked between his thighs in defeat as he staggered home from the bodega with all manner of who-knows-what in his hand. Meanwhile, the Loverman is bounding merilly (and surprisingly daintily) across the rooftops of Mount Washington shouting, "The Dutch stole the clutch!" and "Snatchback!" Meanwhile, his neighbors are shouting, "There's a Loverman! On the roof!" We kind of hope at least one is named Tevye. At the other end of the 110, Johnson is trudging slowly through the streets of Pedro, idly batting himself over the head with a discarded copy of the Daily Breeze and could only be made out to be mumbling "ifonlytheywouldadroppedthefugginhydro-pneumaticsuspensioninthatdamnedfaficouldafinallywonsomethingandmy-
exeswouldflocktomeenmassebutinsteadi'mbeingpropositionedbyfortysomething- hagsonstreetcornersinthesmallhoursicouldabeenacontenderwhataworld- whataworldwhataworld..." Oh, and occasionally repeating "Hatchback, Jonny! Haaaaaatchback!" at excessively high volumes. Don't worry, Harbor Division's on the lookout for our San Pedran son. He'll be fine once they get the sodium pentothal in him. Just fine, friends. Final tally? 274 for DAF, 90 for FAF.

DAF vs. FAF: The Final Battle [Internal]