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The red Skittle army was slowly but steadily

  • The red Skittle army was slowly but steadily advancing on the weakened green forces. But what's this?! A yellow ambush! I ate four reds and a yellow. Mmmmm. The reds retreated back

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  • into my sweaty palm. Then I said to the skittles, "I am all inclusive, I don't even see color!" and then ate one of each flavor of skittle. I bit my tongue which really hurt,

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  • I'd bitten the tip off, ridding myself of a sweet sensation. Along with my color blindness, this mishap caused skittles to both look drab and taste bland. My dreamjob as taste test

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  • administrator was a disaster. I quit immediately and booked a flight for Tibet. If anyone knew how to reinstate a taste-deficiency, it was the Skittle-loving Dalai Lama. On arrival

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  • I was accosted by Chinese soldiers for being an American. All I wanted was the Dalai Lama to help me taste Skittles, or anything else, again. Now I had a wet, electrified sponge on

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  • on my plate. It was not what I wanted. I shove it into my mouth, immediately tingling at every appendage. Eating that electrified sponge was the one decision I will always

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  • remember. The one defining moment in my life. There were no guarantees, but I wanted to make a difference in this world. I wanted to be the next superhero. The Electric Sponge.

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  • Yes! That was it! I would hose down villeins before hosing myself. I'd cause a electric shock and copy Doctor Who and his regeneration! But how can I become a super hero without

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  • morals? I could use my super abilities to cause the deaths of innocent people or bad guys. I really don't care which. Justice is meaningless to me. Would I be considered 'super'

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  • , 'grande' or 'metrio'? Since we're we've replaced normal measures with mind-warping coffee cup units, justice's scales don't work like they used to anyway.

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