206 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
206 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO
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OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO"
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OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO'
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OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO"
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OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO'
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OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO
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|---------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #98 |
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|---------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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- The Pukey! -
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by Flammable Fuzzball
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Mr. Troy's refusal to have a pukey in the house had caused enormous
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trouble in the family. "Pukey's are nasty, degenerate things," he said: "They
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make filthy messes all over the floor, they corrupt the young, they interrupt
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homework and sap the nation, and we have nowhere to put one." His wife would
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answer, "Well, well, we are getting distinguished, aren't we? It seems we're
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the Duke of Devonshire. Let me tell you that Blanche and Mabel both have
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pukeys in their drawing-rooms, and far from being corrupted, they are
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happier." Young Miss Troy appealed to her father's sense of status, saying,
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"Everywhere I go, Father, It's always: 'What did your pukey do last night?' I
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have to admit we haven't got one." "Oh, all right," said Mr. Troy after a
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couple of years, "I'll let the pukey-man come and give a demonstration."
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A few days later, the man arrived with the pukey and put it's box against
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the wall opposite the fireplace. When Mrs. Troy asked,"Won't it catch the
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draught there?" the pukey-man only laughed and said: "The point about a pukey,
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madam, is that it's bred to be insensible." "But it is ALIVE, isn't it?" asked
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Mrs. Troy quickly, "because we'd never pay for something dead. And if it's
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alive, won't the dog resent it?" "Both dog and budgie will be unconscious of
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it, madam," said the pukey-man, "a pukey speaks only to a human brain."
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"Well, cut the brainy cackle and open the box," said Mr. Troy roughly.
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Let us admit at once that the first impression the pukey made on Mr. Troy
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was a good one. Even lying stupefied on the carpet, its eyes had a wondering
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gaze that hardly fell short of sweetness. "It's not just going to flop down
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like that all the time, is it?" asked Mr. Troy to hide the fact that he liked
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it so far. "Give it a minute, my dear sir!" begged the pukey-man, "It's
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hardly got its bearings." "Pay him no attention!" exclaimed Mrs. Troy, "He's
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been picking on pukeys for years." "Oh, what shall we call it?" said Miss
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Troy.
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Shed had hardly spoken when the pukey shuddered from snout to stern and
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let its muzzle fall right open, showing six rows of vivid pink gums and
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bubbles of sparkling saliva: "No teeth; That's curious!" muttered Mr. Troy.
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Then, with no warning, it vomited all over the carpet--A perfectly-filthy,
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greenish-yellow mess--Causing Mrs. Troy to cry spontaneously: "Oh, the filthy
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little beast!" and Miss Troy to say: "Oh, mum, don't fuss!" and Mr. Troy to
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say: "I told you it would foul everything it up. Take the little brute away!"
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"An ounce of patience, if you please," asked the pukey-man, "Or how can it
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grow on you?" "I'm sure that's true--And I don't mean I don't like it," said
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Mrs. Troy, rallying. "Isn't it actually GOOD for the carpet?" Miss Troy asked
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the pukey-man, "I know the Vicar said, reasonably used, it was." "That is
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perfectly correct, Miss Troy," said the pukey-man, "It's not the vomit but the
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abuse of it." "Now there's a remark I always like to hear," said Mr. Troy.
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At that moment the pukey, which had been staring at its own emission in a
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rather vague, contented way, changed its expression entirely. A sort of
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pathetic anguish came over its whole face: it held its snout sideways and
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looked at Miss Troy in a pleading, tender way. "Oh, LOOK!" cried Miss Troy,
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"It's trying to say it didn't mean bad." They were all wrenched by the
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pukey's fawning expression, and when it slobbered and groveled and brownish
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tears dripped from the corners of its eyes, Mrs. Troy could have hugged it.
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"Damned, sentimental hypocritical brute!" said Mr. Troy. "I still reserve my
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judgment." But he was the first to jump in his seat when the pukey, suddenly
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throwing up on to the carpet a clot of gritty mucus, followed this up with a
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string of shrieks and groans. Everyone was deafened except Miss Troy, who
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sensed at once that the pukey was illustrating the dilemma of girls of her own
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age in search of happiness. "Why bless my soul!" Said Mrs. Troy soon, "It's
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trying to have SEX, that's what it is!" And sure enough, the pukey was now
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twisting its hind-parts in the most indecent way and rubbing its flanks in its
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own vomit. "I'll not have that in my house," said Mrs. Troy, pursing her
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lips, "It's just plain filth, and showing-off." "My dear madam, it never
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actually gets there," said the pukey-man: "nothing ever really HAPPENS." "Oh,
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mother, you and father make everything seem so obscene!" said Miss Troy, "Even
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love." "Well, as long as it only suggests but can't actually do it, I don't
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mind," said Mrs. Troy, watching the pukey with a new curiosity. "My mind is
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still unmade up," said Mr. Troy. Worn out, it seemed, by sexual frustration,
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the pukey lay still for a moment. Then, suddenly fixing its eye on Mrs. Troy,
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it gave her such a glare of horrible malignancy that she reached for her
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husband's arm. Next minutes, there was a dreadful spectacle: Throwing itself
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into a spasm of rage, the pukey began tearing and biting at its own body, like
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a thing bent on suicide. "Stop it! Stop it! Put the lid on!" screamed Mrs.
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Troy. "It's cruel, and drawing blood." "Frankly, you'll have to adjust to
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that madam," said the pukey-man, "Because it fights more than anything else."
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"Oh, then, that's decisive for me," said Mr. Troy, "Because I like to see a
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good scrap." "It IS the men who like that best," agreed the pukey-man, as the
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pukey went through the motions of winding its entrails round the throat of and
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enemy and jumping on his face. "I don't mind it's fighting," Mrs. Troy said
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grudgingly, "but I'll put its lid on if it overdoes it. I like beautiful
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things best." The words, alas, were hardly out of her mouth when the pukey,
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sighting backwards over its spine like a mounted cowboy firing at pursuers,
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shot her full in the face with an outrageous report. "Now no grumbling,
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mother," screamed poor Miss Troy, knowing her mother's readiness to take
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affront. "But it's not nice," protested Mrs. Troy, fanning herself with an
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evening paper. "Oh, Mother, can't you see it means nothing?" cried Miss Troy,
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"It's not like us, with our standards." "Standards or no," replied Mrs.
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Troy," I never saw Mable's pukey do that to her." "ah, but this is an
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improved model, madam," said the pukey-man.
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"Am I correct in supposing," asked Mr. Troy," that nothing substantial
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ever comes out of its rear end anyway?" "That is correct, sir," answered the
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pukey-man, "all secretion and excretion are purely visual and oral. The vent
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is hot air at most: hence, no sand-box." "Yet it has a belly on it," said Mr.
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Troy, "I know because I can see one." "You can see a belly, sir,"answered the
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pukey-man, "but you can't see any guts, can you?" They all laughed at this,
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because it was so true.
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After Throwing up another couple of times ("Mercy, what a messy little
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perisher it is!" said kind Mrs. Troy), the pukey became inordinately grave and
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a whole rash of wettish pimples spread over its face. "Well you are in luck!"
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said the pukey-man, jumping up as if genuinely interested, "it never does this
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more than once a week at most. Can you guess what it is?" They all racked
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their brains, guessing everything from sewage farming to guitar-playing and
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still couldn't imagine; until Miss Troy, who was the quickest of the family,
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screamed: "I know! It's thinking!" "My compliments young lady." said the
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pukey-man, bowing.
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They all watched the pukey thinking because it was so unexpected, but none
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of them really liked it. "When it vomits, it only makes me laugh," said Mr.
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Troy, "but when it thinks, I feel like vomiting." "I just feel nervous and
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embarrassed, like it was something you'd seen and you shouldn't." said Mrs.
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Troy, and even Miss Troy for once agreed with her mother, saying, "You feel
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it's only doing it as a change from being sick, but it's the same really."
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"Don't judge it too hardly," said the pukey-man, "Surely the wonder is that
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with no brains it can think at all." "Has it really no brains?" Asked Mr.
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Troy, curious. "No, sir," said the pukey-man: "That's why it's thinking makes
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you sick." "Funny sort of animal, I must say." said Mr. Troy: "Thinks without
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brains, bites without teeth, throws-up with no guts and screws without sex."
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"Oh, please stop it thinking." begged Mrs. Troy. "I had an experience once
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that smelt like that." At which words, the pukey's pimples disappeared
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completely and, lying prone with its paws out, it gave Mrs. Troy a smug,
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complacent look, showing all its gums in a pleading whimpering. "Oh, the
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little angel! It wants to be congratulated for having thought!" cried Mrs.
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Troy. "Then we will! Yes! We will, you smelly little darling. You little
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stinking, clever, mother's thing!" "I find that touching too," said Mr. Troy.
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"No wonder there's so much nicker in pukeys." "It's for love and culture too,
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Dad." Miss Troy reminded. "Thank you, Miss Troy," said the pukey-man, "We
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breeders tell ourselves that too."
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During the next hour, the pukey did all manner of things. Such as
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marching like the ColdStream Guards, dancing and balancing on one paw like
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Pavlova, folding its arms like a member of Parliment, singing the National
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Anthem, plucking away at its parts mysteriously, fighting like mad, and making
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such vulgar, explosive noises at both ends that the Troys were all left
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speechless with wonder. What charmed them as much as anything was the feeling
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that the pukey made no distinction about what it did: whether it was fawning
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or screeching or thinking or puking, it made it all like the same, because it
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loved each thing equally and looked at you always so proudly for it. "I can
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only say your breeders must be jolly high-skilled," summed-up Mr. Troy, "to
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root out all the natural organs and still poison the air." "It's more a sixth
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sense than a skill," said the pukey-man modestly, "and one which your wife, I
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may say, seems to have instinctively." This was the first compliment Mrs.
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Troy had had since she gave birth to Miss Troy, and to cover her natural
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embarrassment she said sharply, "Well, put it's lid on again now and take it
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away. We'll come and fill out the Never-never forms tomorrow."
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With the pukey gone, it wasn't like the same home. The walls seemed to
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have been sprayed with a dribble the color of maple syrup, and dead flies kept
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dropping from the ceiling. The state of the carpet was beyond description,
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although the last thing that pukey had done before the lid closed was puff a
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sort of scented detergent powder over the stinking mess it had made. But the
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Troys were much to impressed to worry about the room: They could only think
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of buying the pukey and doing this every night. "It baffles me," said Mr.
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Troy, as they went to bed: "It's not human, it's not mechanical, it's not
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like any animal I've ever known." "What it leaves on the carpet is human
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through-and-through," said Mrs. Troy, and they all laughed at this because it
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was so true.
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