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At yet another funeral for Holmes, some grimy

  • At yet another funeral for Holmes, some grimy urchin, far from its squalid ward, addressed me. "My dear Watson, it seems I am become to some extent an hermaphrodite." Astonished, I

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  • said: "A good day to you too, Holmes! Back from the dead even before the minister's eulogy is over? And why do you sound like an urchin GIRL?" "Minor accident with a foil, Watson."

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  • Sasha looked up from Doyle. A strange, oddly Sherlockian character had just sat down beside her. "Don't look around, but right behind you is Dr. Trumball, currently wanted in 17 co

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  • untries, for impersonating a physician and taking advantage of...". Doyle had heard enough. He signaled Sasha to duck, took out his miniature-revolver and just

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  • started aiming blindly in all directions while frantically pulling the trigger-nothing,just the sound of empty chambers."Doyle,you idiot!",Sasha yelled.She rose and jumped towards

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  • the ledge, before the rest of the bridge collapsed behind her, sent the zombies, and with it her friends, tumbling into the dark, inky abyss.

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  • Cut to black. A title card which reads "One Year Later" slowly fades in. We open on an idyllic suburban neighborhood. No signs of any zombie activity here. We see evidence of a

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  • once busy neighborhood, now abandoned after a mandatory evacuation due to the impending zombie apocalypse. I look down and see something shiny on the ground. It's a

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  • mint condition Charizard from the Pokémon TCG Base Set. Well, zombies or no, I could sell this baby for at least $100 on eBay then buy my apocalypse survival gear with those funds.

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  • They were sold to some guy on Pluto, and the postage cost me more than the projected profits. In the end I didn't survive the apocalypse. Then again, who ever does?

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