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July 6, 2005

Volume 3, Issue 6

Today is a certain person's birthday.

The theme for the day is the word bush.

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The Eschatologist: Debtors Walkabout

"He's gone, mate."

"What do you mean gone? Where the fuck is Quinn, Jimmy? Where's my money?"

"Honest, I swear he's fucking out, mate! No lie! Out in the bush. Muttered something about the goddammed Dreamtime."

Yancy raised his hand and struck the younger boy across the face. Behind him, Yancy's two thugs chuckled under their breath.

"Both of you fuckers shut the fuck up, too, and let me think a minute." Yancy could see his own ass going down 6 feet if he failed to deliver up Quinn to his boss...

"Alright, Jimmy. Let's go. Time for a walkabout."

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Stacy: Alt. Mythos

Moses paced restlessly along the wadi. The past year had been hard. They’d lost many sheep to the bandits, and nothing would grow in this benighted country. He believed they needed to move if they were to survive.

He was roused from his thoughts by the smell of smoke, and ran to investigate. In this dry land, fire could be devastating.

He came around an outcrop and beheld a wondrous thing…a bush was aflame, yet not burning. Abdul rushed up behind him, doused it with a bucket of water.

“Damn, that was close! That could have burned the whole village!”

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Tanya: True love never leaves

She thought she would never love again. An adoration that had begun in childhood, and bloomed in her teens, had climaxed in adulthood. Those innumerable days under the glorious summer sun, chilly nights under the stars, when she would arrive home exhausted and hoarse from hours of screaming. Her love had never wavered, even when she went away to college.

But then had come the betrayal. The years of abuse and mistrust had pushed her away, and the whining had been the final straw.

She thought her love for baseball had been utterly destroyed. But then she discovered the minors.

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Ted: Slang

"Oh no. You did not just call it that!"

"What's wrong baby? You said to talk dirty."

"You could have said a lot of different words, dammit. I said dirty, not degrading. Try again."

"The mood is kinda gone now isn't it?"

"Do it dammit!"

"Allrighty: I love the way you taste. Your bush/ pussy/ taint/ hot box/ clam/ beaver/ fuck-hole/ slot/ quim/ snatch/ trim/ cherry/ wool/ gateway / twat/ cocksocket/ poontang/ cooze/ marble arch/ honey pot/ cooter/ coochie/ dripping delta/ flower/ muffin / fur/ gash et-fucking-cetera tastes fucking great. Now I am fucking out of here you stupid, controlling little cunt."

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Michele: Speak of the Devil

I’m a traveling salesman. Sort of. See, I don’t sell steaks or encyclopedias. I sell salvation.

Yea, I’m one of them. I knock on your door on a Saturday morning. My suit, tie and fixed smile all say “I’m here for your soul.” You appear startled. Must be the tail.

If you try to slam the door on me, I wedge my foot in there and say “Watch this!” I whip out my dick and piss on your bushes, which disintegrate on the spot.

That trick is my boss’s idea. That, and the business card that says: Go to Hell!

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From the Comments: Hubris

My name is Vinnie, and man, I am about to score some bush.

My profession: Notorious pussy hound. And I’m loaded for freakin' bear tonight. My weapons: Drakkar, a one hundred percent silk shirt, and the God-given ability to dance.

Look out ladies, because I am a fucking machine. I will dazzle you with my witty banter. Looking like me should be against the law. I will also purchase a beverage for you.

Just enjoy, and be grateful that I have given you the benefit of the Vinnie experience. Believe me, your bush will thank you later. Let’s get romantic.

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