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July 16, 2007


You're buying something that's really, really bad for you...

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Jim: Them Thar Hills

As a prospector, Seamus Muldoon lacked any kind of patience; a temperament poorly suited to the chronic tremors that came on about the time his beard silvered.

Two or three times a year, Shaky Muldoon, as he was called, reluctantly left his claim and came to town for supplies. For most folks, this was a good a time as any to be someplace else.

One trip, Shaky bought a case of TNT with nitro blasting caps. He’d said he was tired of panning and this would ‘speed up the process’.

We found pieces of Shaky Muldoon all over Glory Gulch.

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Dave: Use Only as Directed

"This is it, right?"

"Yup."  The guy looked around, trying to spot someone watching us.  "Listen it's the good stuff.  What do you say?"

 "I -- that sounds fine-- but how do I know it's -- for real?"

"Look, thousands of satisfied customers, just not here, okay?  Now, do you want it, or don't you?"

I looked at it.  So small and delicate, so potentially dangerous.  "Okay."

I passed my money over to him.  He handed me the product, and was gone. 

I hesitated.  I knew I should go home first, but I wanted it.  Now.

I bit into the Truth.  It was surprisingly tart.

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Ted: That's the Biz, Sweetheart

The grizzled man stood in front of a green door. The rain made both the man and door appear to be covered in mold. Perhaps they were.

The girl approached, micro skirt clinging to her ass. Her tits jiggled inside a bandanna shirt, the cold rain making her nipples pop through the cotton.

Two professionals, both selling.

The lights had been out in this alley for years, but there was enough skyglow for them to see each other.

"Hey Sunshine, you holding?"

"Not yet, Sandman. Trade even?"

"Sure, hon. Impress me."

She lifts her skirt and shows him her scars.

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David: Vicious Cycle

“The end is near!” shouted the unwashed guy on the street corner as I walked past. “Judgment is nigh!”

I couldn’t tell you why I stopped. “What kind of judgment?”

I’m not convinced he was focusing on me when he replied, “The End of Days is at hand! Make your peace, Michael; the day comes when all men are to be judged!”

He’d guessed my name. I was intrigued “‘Shall the end come in fire or in flood?’”

“Fire! From the sky! Next Monday!” That soon?!

That’s how I wound up broke, homeless, and unemployed. The end is near, Gerald!

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