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Looking out over the canyon, Stan wondered

  • Looking out over the canyon, Stan wondered how it had come to this. The last thing he remembered was jamming in the suppositories and then it was all a blur. He had a faint

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  • fleeting feeling pheasants frolicked, fastly feckish. Farting fetid felines festooned frogs fastidiously. The suppositories probably were spiked. Now awake, Stan surveyed

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  • his hindquarters' "hardened ho-hoes," hoping he'd Hoffenmist-ed Hydroxybutyrics. "Aha!" said Stan. "The meds were spiked with narcolepsy drugs. No wonder they've had so many bowel

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  • -shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse." Stan sighed heavily. Without thinking, he popped another pill in his mouth and dry swallowed it. 10 minutes later he was asleep with

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  • the usual pathetic depressing emo dreams like realizing he'd forgotten to wear pants to school and hoping noone would notice and then realizing noone noticed him anyway. Stan's gir

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  • lfriend... Wait, what girlfriend. He looked for her, but realised that she couldn't possibly exist. Indeed, he had reasoned her out of existence. "Total reality collapse". Yes,

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  • His only reality was what was in front of his eyes. What he didn't notice blinked out of existence. Half remembered class mates, streets, North Dakota, all were gone. Post-it notes

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  • populated his mind with facts less relevant to nuclear disarmament and with less correlation among themselves (the advent of saccharine diets in times of Blatterian propagation).

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  • But these random thought-emulsions could birth a Cortext that could be inserted into the Scriptocracy for further referencing. The saccherine diets

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  • of the Provisional Government knew that if the populace never tasted the bitter, they could never understand the sweet. But the Hot, Salty and Sour Party won.

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