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April 23, 2009


"Tell 'em Pookie sent ya..."

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LJ: Not Just Packing a Casette Anymore

Don Cuddlyone shook his plush, stuffed head. Things got rougher by the year for non-electronic toys. The venerable old Family lost power -- so to speak -- with each passing Christmas.

No longer. A message needed to be sent that the old guard would not stand aside.

"Teddy," he mumbled. "Teddy Ruxpin."

Ruxpin -- one of the few the Furbie Family would trust, but fiercely loyal to the Teddy Bears -- came forward. He knelt and kissed the Don's fuzzy, well-worn paw. "Yes, Godfather."

"Go down to the Velveteen Rabbit. The Furbies always drink there." The Don grinned viciously. "Tell 'em Pookie sent ya."

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Jeff R.: In The Hideaway

I knocked thrice, and said the words. It had been years since big Pookie's day, but nobody seemed to want to change the password. The floor was covered in a thin layer of sawdust that stuck to the bottoms of your feet, so most people didn't move much. Besides, Red posed by the door, ready to knock the stuffing out of any troublemakers. The doll at the piano was playing her heart out. Nobody was listening. We came for one thing only. It's a pity the only places left to get it at were run by the Teddy Bear Mafia.

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Stacy: Doing Battle

“Seriously? Pookie?”

“Yep,” the kid said. “Mister Pookie sent me, said to warn you ‘bout Doc. He’s headin’ this way.”

I tossed the kid a nickel, shooed him out. Doc was big time, the score that could get me off this circuit and set up with a patch of land. Somewhere hellandgone away from here. Somewhere you could see things coming from a long way off.

I dug through my saddlebags, found Special #12 and got ready.

The door slammed open and Doc stood there, just as fuckin’ gorgeous as I remembered.

I let my robe fall to the floor.

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