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I couldn't help but to feel stupid. I had

  • I couldn't help but to feel stupid. I had been reading the username as "Slim White Man" for over five years. I nearly broke by keyboard on my head as I slammed it onto the desk.

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  • instead all the springy bits behind the keys on the keyboard bounced my head back up and back further than normal. There I saw it written in the stars: SLIMWHITMAN. It all made sen

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  • se. Wow, it was spelled out clearly for all to see. Yet I was the only one looking. I leaned over further to take it all in, and that's when the piano lid came crashing down.

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  • I fell in to the rabbit hole, or the piano hole. Time seemed to clock in slow motion and random instruments were falling faster or slower than me. Eventually I reached the bottom

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  • where major & minor notes swayed in the musical breeze, a flock of flutes & clarinets darted past & I heard gaggle of honking bassoons. A wild Steinway galloped past riderless

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  • , it's reflection mirrored on a silver pond of French horns gliding peacefully. Then a loud BLUUURT! The lone tuba cried out, dismayed, discordant, startling a nest of

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  • trumpets. The French horns began to fly away, their song becoming disharmonious. A young trumpet who woke up began, well, trumpeting for its mother. The tube cried again.

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  • The trumpets played together again and the tuba sat next to it. All was peaceful again. The French Horn was there too. Magritte painted it for his next masterpiece, as did Dali.

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  • And so the infiltration began by subverting the symbols of fantasy to our purposes. For the Good, of that let there be no confusion, but not to the liking of many who would be sac

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  • -charine fans if not for the bitter aftertaste and carcinogenic factor. So it begs to be asked: Is all the sweetness and no calories worth it? Or should we just enjoy life.

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