204 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
204 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[ Sphincter Hatch ] [ By Max West ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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R. H. Pollette writing as Max West
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1175 A Oak st. (C)1977 R. H. Pollette
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San Francisco, CA
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(415) 626-1701
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Extract from
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S P H I N C T E R H A T C H
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BY M A X W E S T
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Audry knew they were talking about her - didn't they all! And yeah!, she
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was in the bathroom alright, in fact she was more in the bathroom than
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she'd ever been or would be, if Doreen, a generally trustworthy source,
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who'd turned her on to what was going down in the little girl's room
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wasn't just lying; she was still skeptical. Gingerly Aud positioned herself
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over the Italian Futurist style bidet - polished gold highlights and
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Euro-tech engineering, complimenting a spotless white bowl. She'd seen one
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of these things before but she was still uncertain if she was straddling it
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with the proper amount of e'lan. While she worried momentarily if Europeans
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watching her would think she was cool and had mastered the technique,
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soothing ambient sounds from the wall speakers and the first tickling
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probes of the much discussed Warm water spray/Dual Lick Action, (Pat.
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Syntheotongue6669990), had begun to put her at ease in ways she hadn't
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considered before. Audry decided that etiquette wasn't going to be an
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issue. She glanced at the instruction plate against the back wall, quickly
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reading it before depositing the fifty cents required to run the optional
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'G' spot massager. "Hell!" she said under her breath, "I'm worth it!"
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The machine was so gentle yet insistent Aud wondered, between the
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waves beginning to crash on the shores of Libido Beach, where this handsome
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bidet had been all her life. As she gathered momentum to the rhythms of
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her porcelain mount it struck her that the damn toilet had a Hell of a lot
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more sensitivity than any man she'd ever met... These and other thoughts
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just like them, were rudely interrupted by an untimely knocking on the
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stall door.
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"'Scuse me, are you about through in there, we'd like a turn
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too..." Before Audry could send her visitors packing she was engulfed in a
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searing blast of orgasmic heat, like a tour through the heart of a
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collapsing dwarf star, hammering her from head to toe; All systems were
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GO!, the massager had found its mark. She panted over the inarticulate
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fixture. On the other side of the door someone was impatiently tapping a
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foot and mumbling under their breath: "Damn! How long's it take anyway?"
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but she had absolutely no intention of leaving until she'd milked her fifty
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cents worth out of the obliging bidet.
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She was thankful at first when the nuisance finally left a few
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minutes later, then regretful at the machine's last tremors, shaking it to
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a stop. Reluctantly she slid off, pulling up her pants with a snap. It was
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just as well, she didn't have any more change and she should get back to
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the table anyway, before Dirk stole her drink.
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"That was so good.." she told the appliance's reflection, while she
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fixed her lipstick in the mirror over the sink, "I'm going to give you a
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gold star and you can be my pet every Saturday night from now on."
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Audry suspected, considering who owned the place, that almost everything in
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the 'Drop' was boosted from the Alien visitors that sometimes showed up
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over at the county seat - for all she knew the damn thing winking under the
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overhead florescence lights, was probably alive, maybe even intelligent.
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She eyed the Bidet ruefully.
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"Whaa?" grunted Dirk, downing another shot and fixing J. with a
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bloodshot eye.
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"Where'd she go man?! Where did Audry go?" J., who'd intended
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needling the fucked-up Dirk by suggesting Audry had maybe found other
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amusements, was getting sort of worried himself; she'd been gone too long.
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Dirk gazed around slowly and saw only the wild gyrations of the screaming
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patrons. Deliberately, he took another shot, wavering slightly in his seat.
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It was too goddamned loud in there. J., who didn't like anyone having more
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fun than he was, whether they were or not, was getting seriously pissed at
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his pal.
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"WHERE DID SHE GO, MAN!!!? He yelled over the throbbing band.
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Without warning Dirk covered J. in a thick blanket of hot orange vomit. His
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entire body convulsed like a frantic sea slug across the table top,
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struggling to squeeze every last drop out of himself and onto his intended
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target. The dry heaving bellows and choked cries of anguish to a,
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(hopefully), merciful god, escaping Dirk's lips sent some of the lower
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life forms in the place, tuned to decibel reflex, into automatic rut
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response battling each other on the dance floor with spontaneously erupting
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antlers, showing off alien plumage that did not equate favorably with most
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of the folks there. All too soon the groovy dancers were locked into
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ceremonies of a more basic nature which though perfectly normal in an
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antediluvian swamp at mating season, were, even in a club such as this one,
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completely inappropriate.
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The Emcee lit a cigarette in the gloom behind the stage. To a fly
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on the wall he might have seemed not unlike a young, though somewhat
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flabby, dissipated and unappealing, Frank Sinatra at his peak. Exhaling
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gratefully he commented to no-one in particular,
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"Sure is loud out there..." Realizing that he was not alone he
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leaned against one of the supports, bow tie hanging loose, watching the
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little gal in the shiny VR suit, slowly shuffling on her hands and knees
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out of the shadows, toward him.
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"What's your name baby?" he crooned to her when he thought she was
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close enough to understand him. Audry looked up, startled that a happy
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green VR dinosaur - a distant cousin to Barney, she supposed - could or
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would smoke; it didn't seem very healthy. All around it the virtual
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landscape sprouted cute multi-colored geometrical polygon flowers and
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Tetrahedral shapes to a jungle rock sound track. Rolling hills covered with
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fractal vegetation under a perfectly blue sky, completed the scene. The
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devious Announcer recognizing an opportunity when he saw one - this chick
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was so obviously lost she didn't know if she was coming or going - reached
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for the fly of his Tuxedo pants and immediately the frank sound of zipper
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teeth opening wide filled the air. Mr. happy Saurian seemed to pull a magic
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ice cream out of nowhere, like a special trick just for her and right on
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top, invitingly red and shiny, was a big red cherry; Audry knew she just
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had to have a lick, and pretty soon she did! Yummy!
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Our overly-confident Emcee stood bowed, his inflated gray fleshed
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cock, like the stump of an amputated limb, jutting from his pants directly
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into the face of the confused girl in front of him who in VR space, still
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thought she had herself an ice cream cone.
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"Nice Dino, hold still, will you?" Audry slurred. To the reader:
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Earlier she'd checked out one of the 'members only' suits with the Beta
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Zovian's credit card, but was now too drunk to remember she even had it on.
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Taking a great big bite she heard the Dinosaur gasp.
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"Careful! O.K.? It's the only one I got!" Audry smacked her lips
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trying to localize the suddenly familiar flavor. Something about the taste
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of that icy treat put her in mind of a certain smart-ass Emcee at the Drop.
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The stats rose in her mind unbidden, outlined in Day-Glo green: Mange,
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Benjamin P.
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Age: 34. Sign: Sagittarius. Employment: Announcer at Dew Drop Inn.
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Breakdown: Male: 98%. Groovy: 78%. Fun: 65%. Gets along well with others:
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54%. Snappy dresser: 89%. First impression: 97%. Trustworthiness (short
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term): 98%. Trustworthiness (Long term): 12%. Ass kissing: 99%.
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Audry pulled back, alarms beginning to sound through her alcohol
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haze - it was becoming all too clear: The Ocho Ball Disco Lounge in L.A...
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The guy with the comb over and fluffy sideburns who looked like an
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accountant, dressed in a brown velvet suit and sky-high platform shoes
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wavered before her. Through the gap in the purple Tom Jones shirt
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unbuttoned to his waist, a Sagittarius medallion the size of a Volkswagon
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hubcap swung on a gold chain against the bare white puffiness of his chest.
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"Hey, disco mama! Wanna do some Blow?" He'd asked innocently enough. He
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seemed like a nice guy there in the Men's as he chopped out lines of the
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white stuff; the Right Stuff! Jabbering away: "Did you know there's a
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product on the market that's made from cadaver flesh?" Out on the dance
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floor the BeeGees were layin' down a cool beat : "Ah!, Ah!, Ah!, Ah,
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stayin' aliiiii-ve!"
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She couldn't help noticing that against the black satin sheets of
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his bed, without his platform shoes and medal, he'd seemed rather small and
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uninteresting. The next day Lewis, jealous as a Bitch-Queen, had made her
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read Disco-Boy's dossier (he'd compiled one on everybody she'd ever met).
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Page 1. B. P. Mange: First sexual encounter with second/third party:
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Frantic intercourse at scene of freak hunting accident, subsequent erotic
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addiction to "Field and Stream" magazine. Hypothetical, juvenile trauma
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suggested by reaction to various stuffed heads in father's trophy room,
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including: Giraffe, Hyena, Snapping Turtle, Deer, Bengal Tiger, Tufted Tit
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mouse, Manta Ray, Howler Monkey, Black Adder, Three headed Chernobyl Human
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infant in pickle jar. Also suspected: various discarded gun parts including
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Mauser firing pins, Pork belly extruder/smoker mechanism from mid-twentieth
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century Germany, Plasma pumps from vintage Eradicator hand guns...
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"Aw shit!" sputtered Audry, coughing on what she'd assumed was virtual
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melted ice cream from a virtual sugar cone. She ripped off the goggles in a
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spasm of loathing, now fully conscious, trying to get out of the way of the
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torrent of grunting, milky sludge pumping from the guy's mindless,
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chancre-pocked yet undeniably well-veined fuck rod.
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"Oh Baby! You know I can't hold back once you stick that raspy
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little Leopard tongue on me, YAAAAA!!!" Mange, eyes clamped shut in lust,
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didn't realize Audry was thoroughly out of VR space and now analyzing his
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pitiful display.
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"For God's sake!" Even though she'd avoided most of the stinking
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discharge, the stuff was in her hair and all over the rental suit -
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somebody'd have to pay the cleaning bill, but it sure wasn't going to be
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her! Why couldn't life just be like that clean, happy place where Mr.
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Dinosaur hung out?, (even if he did smoke), she asked what was obviously an
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extremely disinterested Universe. Behind her Benjamin howled at an imagined
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full moon.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #450 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #450
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ftp://ftp.etext.org/pub/Zines/UXU/
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