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August 14, 2007

Jim: At The Pallas Palace Bar & Grill

Bradley turned away from the bar and up into a pair of angry eyes framed by a broad, craggy face. “What do you mean by ‘people like me’?”

The man cracked thick knuckles “We mean freaks,” he growled. Several other thugs gathered around.

“I’m no mutant,” Bradley spat out the word. “Why would you think I was?”

“It’s the smell,” the man replied, stepping closer. “All freaks have that same stink.”

Bradley felt the hatred filling the mob. Reflexively, thousands of his tiny pores jetted a fine haze of ebony ink. He ducked under the cloud and out the door.

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"...Pallas Palace..."

*falls down laughing*

You're kicking ass on the Mathilde, Jim!

Posted by: Stacy at August 14, 2007 9:04 PM · Permalink

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