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July 12, 2007


So, you come here often?

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Stacy: Detectives in Love

“Well, that’s quite the personal question, don’t you think?”

“No, ma’am. It’s an effort to ascertain if you do, indeed, patronize this establishment on a regular basis.”

“’Patronize this establishment’? Who talks like that?”

“I’m afraid I do, ma’am. It’s an unfortunate side effect of my chosen vocation.”

“’Chosen vocation…’ Riiiight. Well, what is it you do do?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s not something I’m comfortable discussing with a lady I’ve just met. In fact, that’s not even something I’m comfortable discussing with my proctologist.”

“Wha..? Um, you know, I think it’s time for me to stop talking. Bye.”


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Jim: All Roads Lead To The Gator

An hour from Lafayette sat a moldy plank building that called itself the Gator Saloon. Outside, a myriad of insects hummed mournfully in the sweltering, thick air.

A stereotype of crusty black leather and tattoos, Killer Maddigan bulled into the saloon, its interior dark after the midday sun, and settled onto a bar stool. “Tequila,” he told the girl tending the place.

The bar’s only other patron, a shriveled oldster, quietly slurred, “Sho, you come here off ten?”

Maddigan stared, downed his shot, and left without a word.

“Guess he came here off Highway 49, then,” the old man muttered.

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Jeff R.: The Food is Great, but the Service is Terrible

I met Alicia while in the Chez Vasquez, a posh eatery downtown. She was hiding in the pantry, and I was rebounding hard after Gina decided she'd take her chances with the Zeds rather than stay with me. There was still food inside, but the dining area was full of Zeds, fat Zeds that used to be the waitstaff.

We learned about the fat ones together. Zeds think with infected dead brain tissue, and these had more in their stomachs than their skulls. Enough to wield a knife, even. Decapitation hardly even slowed them down. It did blind them, though.

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Ted: Only in the Mornings

I get up and walk the twelve blocks to catch the train. I take the train for an hour to get downtown. I get off and climb the steps to my building. I take the elevator up to the roof. I think about jumping.

God my life is so damned predictable.

I go down to the office. I go to the meetings. I crunch the numbers and send the proposals.

I eat lunch in my cubicle.

I call in before I leave the office to reserve a table.

I am here every fucking night.

So, yeah, you could say that.

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From The Comments: Barb

“So, you come here often?”

“Oh, my God! You’re so cute! Hi! I’m Susan and yeah, I come here every Wednesday night because that’s the night Mother gets her nails done in the afternoon and I live with my mother by the way and anyway she gets her nails manicured every Wednesday afternoon and then the fumes give her a migraine and I have sinus so it doesn’t bother me but Mother takes these pain pills left over from her uterus operation and I tell her, well it’s…”

“Um, excuse me, I think I see somebody I know over there.”

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