Fred and his zombie buddy came out onto a small, dusty balcony overlooking
a grand ballroom. It wasn't overdone like most ballrooms were. Tapestries,
well kept, lined the walls. The drink tables were far away from anything
they could spill on. The dancing floor was smooth and polished, several
mismatched chairs were scattered hither and yon and no tables were in
sight. Probably because of several maids, not maidens. There were seven,
none older then thirty, sitting in a circle near one wall, smoking and
carrying on and gossiping about boys.
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Slip away.
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Fred introduces himself from the balcony.
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Fred tries to find an entrance to the floor level.
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Socially stunted, Fred cannot deal with more then six beautiful women in his line of sight at once. He gibbers a bit.
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Fred picks up the zombie, hefts him above his own head and hurls the undead monster at the maids.
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Fred suavely swings down on a support rope. The girls are impressed.
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Fred grabs a support rope, falls ten feet, butt-slams -through- the floor and wakes up ten minutes later hidden in the girl's dorm. It smells of pee.
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Fred feels wary. He wants to slip away but an invisible wall stops him. Plus, he has to fart.
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