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The hibernation genie started the backwards

  • The hibernation genie started the backwards lullaby. Commander Antpi relaxed. There was a long journey ahead of him through the Isolar Solar Tunnel and he needed

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  • to heal up and check his equips. Cmdr. Antpi headed for the Isolar Solar Tunnel. "#3n; e; sw; d; #5n. Weild brick. Kill dwarf. A dwarf is dead! You can't carry that many items."

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  • Everything Cmdr. Antpi contended with that awful day swirled around his consciousness as he entered the solar tunnel, gratified that he could make out the faint scent of meatloaf.

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  • It was the worst goddamned meatloaf this side of Kansas. "You are worthless," the Commander dispassionately told his wife, as he snapped his fingers for them to bring a new one.

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  • "Hey!" yelled the Commander's wife. "You talking about MY meatloaf, mister? Well I'll take it where it's wanted." She strapped on her clogs and stuffed the meatloaf down her blouse

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  • and headed to 24 hour fitness! The fitness geeks that work out at 1 a.m. will appreciate my meatloaf. She waited near the stationary bikes to be noticed. The Commander followed

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  • the gaze of the gym's patrons as they stared longingly at the meatloaf; torn between the sculpted figures they were striving for, and the thought of food. The tension in the air

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  • smothered the sanitized gym decor, like a glimmering ketchup-based sauce atop a baked mixture of ground meats. "There will be no loafing here," howled Arch-Trainer Allana, her cri

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  • sp cleats sparkling with a midnight gleam, though it couldn't have been more than five past noon. Arch-Trainer Allana was in awe of her new meat-lovers' gym design, reminiscient of

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  • links of london wholesale

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  • The spammer's finger hung an inch above the enter key. "Bombs away," he whispered, a shuddering wetness, like it always did, spreading itself on his pants. His finger fell.

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