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June 26, 2008



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Sealyon: A Breakthrough

Discipline is what keeps her from freezing. Long days – weeks, months – of wandering the cities on her own, keeping herself safe, and a lot of killing: it's a discipline no less than that of any martial art practice. No less than the soldiers' training, before they also succumbed to the endless tide of walking dead.


My God, he did say something. Although her brain screams that it's not possible, she listens. Stops struggling. He stops pulling.


Jesus, his breath is disgusting. Breath? On a zombie?


Mah. Ree. What the hell? Oh.

She says it out loud: "Marie."

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Jeff R.: Grounds For Punishment

Captain Randolph was disgusted. He called over his first mate. The little man scurried across the deck.

"Yes, Keptin?"

"Do you know what's wrong with this ship?"

The mate stared at him, blankly. Eventually Captain Randolph had to begin again.

"No, of course I'll have to spell it out for you. In fact, I can sum it up in a single word."

"What word is dat, Keptin?"


The mate stared, blankly, for a few seconds. Then he spoke. "No, no, dis a ship, Keptin." He waved up at the sky, at a distant contrail. "Now dat, dat a plin."

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