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October 9, 2006


Take a moment and look in your pockets. Something in there is not an ordinary object as it seems, but a legendary artifact of historical importance.

Tell the epic tale of that seemingly ordinary object.

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Jim: Going Once...

It took over an hour to tell the convoluted story of how the rock passed from one person to the next. Yet such was Gramps’ skill with weaving the spoken word that nobody in the audience dared to interrupt.

“And so,” he concluded, “this hand-worn pebble is all that remains of the stone with which David slew the mighty Goliath!

“I must have it!” declared an excited museum curator.

Bidding started when the Bishop offered two hundred grand for the holy icon.

Gramps made more money that night than he ever made from selling lint from the shroud of Turin.

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David: Locked Away

“Gee, Dad, you sure have a lot of keys,” his son said, flipping each one around the key ring. “Do they all go to something?”

“Most of them,” Dad replied.

“Like what?”

“Well, this one’s for the house. That one’s for the car.”

“What about this one?” Junior asked, selecting a key with an X profile, longer than any other.

“Oh, that one’s a souvenir from where Daddy used to work. The lock it fits doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Then why do you keep it?”

Dad thought back to all those uncertain nights at the bottom of the silo. “No reason.”

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Ted: Head or Tail

The thing wanted action. Didn't care what kind. Head or tail, it was all the same. I tried to be casual, but I could tell that all the people around me knew exactly what was driving me forward.

I reached the base of the hill finally, met the soldiers I'd been sent to relieve.

"You want to dice for a few more shekels? I'd like to make some back from you."

I took the coin out, that damned silver, and looked to the cave where the body had been taken.

"Certainly. I'd love the chance to get rid of this."

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Michele: God Damn It

I tried to be careful. I mean, look at what I was entrusted with. It’s not every day you’re given the key to the gates of Hell. I couldn’t use it, he just wanted me to hold it for ten minutes while he went outside to smoke. Even Satan has to obey that law.

He shouldn’t have been carrying the key around, but he uses it to pick up chicks. He thinks they like his dark power. This ain’t my fault.

I stuck the key in my pocket. How the fuck did I know I had a hole in there?

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Stacy: Sucker

“Over here...”

I hesitated. Talking to ratty strangers on the street was not very high on my List of Smart Things. Still, for all his ragged appearance, he was well-built, had a look of ex-nobility. His accent was… strange. I moved a bit closer.

“Sir, would you like to purchase a treasure of lost Mycenae?” In his hand was a largish marble, a beautiful specimen, gold-flecked. Mesmerized I handed him my wallet, uncaring as he disappeared. The marble was strangely warm to the touch, pulling, calling...

I didn’t hear the three who appeared behind me until it was too late.

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