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The toy soldiers marched onward. Their tiny

  • The toy soldiers marched onward. Their tiny wooden legs creaking as they moved. Their objective was clear. Their mission had been set. Little Timmy had to die.

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  • though little timmy was only two months of age his time was up. so

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  • his parents prayed and prayed for little Timmy, and God has worked his miracle. Little Timmy was given another chance to continue his life on earth. So his parents

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  • rejoiced in awe and trust of His refuge and faithfulness! Hugging and kissing Little Timmy, both the mother and father had no other holding thought that could capture their hearts

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  • other than the fact that they hadn't updated their facebook status this whole time. Not to mention their twitter feeds. How would anyone know? Would this moment be lost to

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  • the sands of time? I rushed for a computer, hoping against hope that I could update it myself and the moment wouldn't disappear forever the same way

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  • that "new car" smell seems to disappear forever. I tried to update the profile but was thoroughly stymied by a

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  • disturbingly aggressive attitude from the corresponding anti-file - there was one near miss where they nearly met and annihilated each other. Nevertheless, I was eventually able to

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  • escape to the agreed meeting place. I sat there and waited for the others to come. There were taking a while, so I decided to look at the map again. I was in the wrong place! I

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  • was really bad with maps. I heard a voice "Use the scent, Luke..." I inhaled. A pungent wet Wookie smell permeated the air. Soon I found my comrades in the garbage compactor.

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