He opened the brochure: Welcome to the Clam-net.

He opened the brochure: Welcome to the Clam-net. We are a decentralized organization devoted to finding you the tastiest clams from around the world.

We abhor the creeping statism & pernicious centralisation pervading the world of bivalve ingestion. At Clam-net we operate in autonomous cells, communicating horizontally with fell

Swoops of connuption and conniption, depending on your location. Connuption set next to Conniption at the banquet table. The yellow rice mixed with chicken was good, another of my

favorites. Connuption said it tasted like the bottom of a cardboard shoe and Conniption threw a fit over this. I threw them out of my banquet. How dare they insult grandma's recipe

to her face. I at least have the courtesy to insult grandma's recipe only during a Dark Moo, in Enochian with 12 of my sabbat sisters. I don't even know why I invited Conniption &

Contretemps, because now we were fifteen -- some hidden current perhaps. The Dark Moo was lowing on the horizon as we split into groups for the pre-sabbat team-building exercise. R

abbi Joe blew the whistle at Sundown and we played Hunger Games.

The sunlight erupted through the urine-stained white sheets that Tobin hung as drapes to keep the bedroom dark. Now, in daylight, Marnie noticed Tobin with a fake arrow thru his

fursuit. Horrified, she exited the urine-smelling room without a backwards glance. So he WAS a furry!