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June 19, 2007

Jim: At The Magic Shoppe

“Hey, lookee,” I smirked, sliding my triple-Es into the sparkly red shoes. “One size fits all! Now, how do these loafers work?”

“Why, that’s easy,” the hoop-skirted proprietress trilled annoyingly. “You just close your eyes, click the heels together, and say ‘There’s no place like home.’”

My eyes narrowed. “And then what?”

“Then they take you home,” she warbled.

“Where else can they take me?”

“Er… No place else,” she sang. “Just home.”

“That’s it? For 500 smackers, that’s all they do?”

“Yes. That’s all.”

I pulled the shoes off. “Cab fare’s only six-fifty,” I growled. “What else you got?”

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