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Disregarding his personal safety, as any true knight of the realm would
do, and the laws of physics (gravity hadn’t even been invented yet), Fred
cast himself into the shadowy pit of echoes. He fell for a really long
time. That wasn’t a good sign. “Dammit,” he cursed as his descent continued. “Dammit, dammit, dammit. Crap. Stupid crap, dammit.”Indeed. However, lucky for Fred, there just happen to be a giant feather mattress at the bottom of the pit. You see, the dragon had fixed it up into a guest-room for when the in-laws showed up on the holidays. Fred rejoiced. “Hurray!” he exclaimed. “Happy days are here again!” Now all he had to do is walk to the next chamber and slay the dragon! Yee haw!And he did. And there was much rejoicing. And the Kingdom was freed of a great pestilence and everything was dandy. And Fred became a living legend. And it was good. Yay.And so it was that Fred broke one of the cardinal rules of online extendable text adventures and fell into a monotonous routine of frequenting brothels and spending his gold on alcohol and opium and gracing royal balls with his esteemed presence. And this is just bad story-telling. So let’s give Fred another adventure. Fred speaks up. “Let’s not,” he suggests, as several harlots pleasure him with their hands thrust into his pants.Shut up, Fred. No one asked you.
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1/27/2005 10:48:25 AM
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