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The clock was edging along slowly but surely.

  • The clock was edging along slowly but surely. The pressure was on. I had ten more seconds to finish the paper or my life would be over. The killer looked at me, his eyes pulsating

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  • , sweat rolled down his face as he awaited his paper. My hand hurt from writing so much, but I couldn't risk dying. The cold knife pressed against my throat was a constant reminder

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  • that there was a cold knife pressed to my neck. I wrote poetry about the feeling as quickly as I could manage as my hand slowly cramped. I knew the only way out was to show

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  • my assailant that there was another way of doing things & that way involved maxing out the elements of eloquence. I inserted my poem between his blade and my neck. "Please reply to

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  • this flow of ink on my neck. The salt of my sweat & toil. My tears & sorrow pearl in every sanguine drop. Won't you pen with it another tale. After my demise at your sword?" He

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  • was always so dramatic, each and every time he came in for another tattoo. Jeez. "Just tell me what you want, OK?" I asked. "And where you want it." He lifted his leather codpiece

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  • and pointed to his right hip. "Give me a tattoo of Pepe the frog right there and have him staring at my crotch." It wasn't the MOST unusual request I'd had.

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  • In fact he's have to give the same leering frog tatoo to almost everyone in the U.S. House of Delegates. He could tat it in his sleep! Or so he thought, but when he awakened, he

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  • Was surrounded by giant gingerbread men and their families. "We have a present fr you, sir!", Mr. Gingerbread said as he handed me a box, to be opened immediately. My wife watched

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  • as I lifted the lid and out hopped a robotic owl. It immediately began to devour everyone in site. It completely changed my life.

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