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He went to town on the weird quirks, getting very creative by the ten minute mark. He told Marjora to trip and fall flat on her face every time she heard the note A sharp. He told her to forget the last five minutes every time someone said the same word more than three times in a row. He told her to say the word "ostrich" every time she greeted someone. To gasp loudly every time someone wished her goodnight. To say every fiftieth word with a strange accent. To refuse to leave the table at every meal until she had been served some kind of fish if it was a Wednesday or Thursday, and some kind of pickle on any other day, but to never be able to say the word "fish" or "pickle." To never have fewer than three glasses of wine every time she drank. To laugh hysterically for at least thirty seconds every time a joke was told, no matter how unfunny it was. To spend the first ten minutes after noon every single day narrating her thoughts out loud. He couldn't even keep track of all the orders he gave, and by the end of the hour he was so excited to see the fruit of his labors he was ready to burst. Marjora woke up in bed. She didn't remember lying down to take a nap, which was a little alarming, but she supposed she'd felt rather ill the last few days. There was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" she called. The reply came:
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11/29/2015 8:35:50 PM
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