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The Bradbury was a little Bakelite device

  • The Bradbury was a little Bakelite device you could order online for about $49 dollars, that you plugged into a standard household socket just like you would a night-light. It glow

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  • ered at you from on high, crushing your eternal spirit, decimating your soul and taking one-tenth of it for itself. Some times it would speak, and when it did,

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  • black spittel would spray from its gingivitis soaked teeth while his eyes sparkled with malice. Wishing the remaining portion of your soul would just cease to exist, it looks you

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  • don't have any other choice but to sacrifice your last possession - your precious ukulele. You look at it, play the F chord for the last time, and throw it into the monster's jaw.

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  • "Ugh", you groan, as the monster swallows the ukelele whole. "I guess I'll have to take up the penny whistle", you think to yourself, "or maybe the hurdy-gurdy!" The monster began

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  • belting out Elvis classics and out of nowhere a beach setting tumbled into place,be-bikinied babes and beachballs all. The monster gargled out yet more classics. You shuck and

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  • suddenly I was in a church. "..and God knows he didn't buy a green Mercedes to sit behind a bicycle all day! Amen." The vicar announced. The monster gargled on. You shuck and

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  • clean oysters all day, and this is how you're repaid? The monster in the seat beside you spits a wad of phlegm onto the floorboard of your brand new Mercedes. "What the actual

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  • f*ck do you think you're doing?!!!" I yelled instinctively, momentarily more concerned about the loogie glistening near the gas pedal. Taken aback at my outburst, the monster

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  • seized his opportunity, as he got in my car, shut the door, and drove away. As he drove away, he removed his mask, and I then realized I had been car jacked

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