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Sunday morning I was up with the lark, at

  • Sunday morning I was up with the lark, at least I thought it was but it turned out to be an evil-looking crow that was half black and half white. I felt a sudden chill. I had never

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  • seen a penguin before & since it was only my first day at the Arctic Research Station & I was just an engineer from hawaii. I kind of freaked out at the "evil crow kahuna" and

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  • decided not to free it from the electrical wires. Some of the short circuiting cooked the penguin meat. After a month at the Research Station, the dead penguin melted into a black

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  • and white puddle shaped like a baby seal. Watching and recording every last twitch was disgusting! Who signed me up to work in this waste land where only the weak get caught and

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  • tickled to breaking point in the town library. I wouldn't break though. I had prepared for this moment for too long. No one alive could make me giggle. Except for this book

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  • and that one dead man, but that's another story. The book, with its hilarious old book smell and comically faded green cloth cover, was making me snort as I ran through the library

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  • The book's toxic hilarity leached via my pores, BAM! into my neurotransmitters, back down my spine into my elbow, stimulating my funny bone. I collapsed in stitches. The librarian

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  • sniffed. This was not part of The Plan. The librarian pushed the secret red button while I lay on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. "Code 42!" she whispered into a hidden mic.

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  • The sirens started wailing, and huge gashes opened in the ceiling. And, timidly at first, then in full force, a torrent of white, scented, fluffy toilet paper erupted from them.

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  • What they thought was shredded toilet paper was in fact radioactive fallout landing on their unsuspecting bodies. They became walking ghosts, then died of acute radiation syndrome.

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