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Having suffered a huge setback in chess, Zora reacts like she does half
the time, being manic depressive and all. She giggles and waves a loaded
pistol around. A loaded water pistol. "No!" screams Andrews and dives under a chair. "What?" you say, kicking him. "It's Tirellian Contact DCFG!" babbles Andrew, wetting himself. "That's what she loaded the pistol with! I can smell the rotting apples! It's the worst hallucigenic compound known to sentients!" Andrews stands up, now entangled in the chair and runs out of the room. You hear him clank against the cafeteria second floor railing and screaming, fall over. Zora is busy spraying the random shapes and voices that follow her everywhere for half her waking hours.
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2/21/2009 4:05:13 AM
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