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"Alright, let's strike up a compromise before things get bloody or
Spanish," Fred suggested logically. He had enough sense to know that he
and Astra were an even match, at best. "Aha! I've got it. Instead of an
idol, perhaps they could craft us some manner of palace in which we could
slothfully pass the endless, maddening days napping and carousing!" "Not a bad idea, Fred!" Astra uncharacteristically concurred. "But where should it be constructed?" Fred, lazily as always, suggested they just build it here on the beach with the materials at hand, that being sand and seaweed. Astra frowned. "You buffoon, haven't you ever been to Sunday school!?" she admonished him. "That's one of the oldest parables in the book! You don't build palaces on sandy beaches."Fred rolled his eyes (and his r's; the d'Honaires were of Puerto Rican descent). It was well known fact that Aqualarians had for centuries aligned themselves with the Church of the savage Southern Baptists. Any parables taught by the religion were meaningless to him. Suddenly, Khrusti spoke up. "Why don't we just build a raft so we can escape this paradisical hellhole?"Fred retaliated by slapping the green-haired comedian in the forehead with a dead fish. "You shut up. You keep your filthy mouth shut. No one asked for your opinion!" An offended look came over Khrusti. "Don't hit me with a fish!"Fred snapped his fingers in the man's face. "You shut it." Khrusti sprang to his feet and backed away uneasily. "Put the fish down first, you thug!"Again, Fred slapped the entertainer in the face with the fish, this time a little harder. "Look, I'm not a violent person, but if you slap me in the face with that fish again I'll..."Again, the fish was used as a tool to implement severe pain and trauma on Khrusti, this time drawing blood. You didn't want blood, but you got it. Now this episode's over. You gonna cry? You're pitiful.
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10/1/2003 7:01:43 PM
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