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"Then there was that time he went into epileptic seizures when someone
mentioned the word 'horsehockey'," says one woman, dressed in a fancy
suit that's three sizes too small for her big fat ass. "And don't forget how he used to drink a whole pot of coffee every morning from the break room. After that he'd usually roam around in a jittery haze, mumbling something about 'not hiding the bodies good enough' and he was always goin' on about some dead guy named Scott haunting him," drones another employee, this one of the male persuasion. “Ya, and I think he liked Flock of Seagulls!” chimes in another worker.A stunned silence ensues. “What’s so bad about listenin’ to flock of seagulls?” three of the employees say in unison.“Well, uh, I mean...” the lone dissenter stutters. “I guess they’re not half-bad...” “NOT HALF BAD!” they all scream. “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” they chant. “SACRIFICE HIM TO OUR HEATHEN GODS!”Wow. This is exciting.
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11/23/2005 2:02:46 PM
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