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Old 03-03-2015, 10:29 AM   #26
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Quote:
he’s… one of those guys who thinks women are either malfunctioning males or some kind of alien goddesses.
I love that line! (I studied engineering, I knew guys like that....heck, at that age I probably had a mild case of it myself. But I've never seen it expressed that well)
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Old 03-05-2015, 07:17 PM   #27
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That was short but made me laugh! Winner of best sexual tension breakup comment goes to Donald! "Would you like to see the slime mold map I made of the campus?"

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Old 03-07-2015, 09:31 PM   #28
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I like this a lot! The orange juice breath line cracked me up.
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Old 03-08-2015, 05:20 AM   #29
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Wondrous indeed. Truly , a dam' fine read.
More, please...
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Old 03-08-2015, 08:41 PM   #30
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This story just goes from strength to strength!
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Old 03-13-2015, 04:55 PM   #31
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I love everything about this story, from the central couple itself to the incredibly believable and well-observed touches like Nadia feeling less safe at a protest and the Nice Guy floormate and the fact that sometimes you just can't sleep because you EXPECTED to pull an all-nighter and drank too much coffee. And I learned something about civil engineering! Wonderful.
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Old 03-19-2015, 09:42 AM   #32
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This is so good! I can't wait for more!
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Old 03-31-2015, 07:47 PM   #33
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Note -- I’ve been feeling a bit of writer’s block on this, so here’s another short chapter in the hopes that putting up what I’ve got will motivate me to write more:

Part IVb.

“You all right? I thought you said you liked Hallowe’en.” While Sally took out her frustration on the bulletin board, Nadia had entered the common room with a cardboard box of student-y groceries (mostly ramen, though there was a carton each of milk and orange juice too). The Poli-Sci picked up a pad of sticky notes from the counter and began writing down her name and labelling each item before placing it in the cupboard or fridge, as Sally explained the fly named Gordon in this particular jar of ointment.

“I know,” she finished, “I have the right to wear what I want without being molested -- but I’ve seen this guy in class -- he’s creepy enough to make me uncomfortable and smart enough not to do anything I can actually lodge a complaint about. So I have three realistic options: one, skip the party altogether; two, go to the party and be on my guard the whole time; or three -- wear something that hides me from him. I’m not thinking burqua so much as a Darth Vader costume --” she paused. “Or a weaponized robot. Do you still need that cardboard box?” When Nadia shook her head, Sally picked up the empty box and gaged its width against the breadth of her shoulders. “I’ll need to collect some more,” (having, as a child, gone trick-or-treating dressed as a tube of toothpaste, Sally had sworn never again to design herself a costume with a stiff one-piece body), “but I’m going home this weekend, and unless my parents have suddenly decided to clean out the garage, there should be plenty.”

“Problem solved, then?” Nadia asked. “My work here is done.”

“Do you have a costume?”

“I was thinking of Sailor Mercury, but now I’m worrying that’ll just end with me spending the whole night telling people that I’m not Nicki Minaj.”

“Do you already have the uniform? You might have to be Sailor Moon -- at least there’s no mistaking that hairdo.”

“Yeah, but Sailor Mercury was always my favourite.” Sally frowned:

“Would it be cheesy to carry around a thermometer, to make it obvious?” Nadia laughed.

“That…. could work. I think my mom’s got one. When do you head home for Thanksgiving, by the way?”

“Friday, as soon as I get back from my morning class.”

Sally had always liked taking trips, even on low-glamour means of transportation like the greyhound bus. It got her away from her life, even if it was only for a few hours.

Donald had been primarily rehearsing the “Pyramis and Thisbe” bits the night before, and afterwards when everyone went out to the pub he’d seemed to avoid her, taking a seat at the other end of the table and talking with the director. When she’d bid him good night and a happy Thanksgiving weekend, he’d returned her hug awkwardly.

“Eat many things,” she’d added, and then blushed, feeling ridiculous.

Well. She’d worry about Donald later, and she’d bury her worries about Gordon in work on her Hallowee’n costume. In truth she really was looking forward to a couple of days of home and family.

With her small weekend bag packed, she left the campus and caught a city bus to the terminal where she walked around the corner, bought a sandwich and a coffee from the Tim Horton’s, and returned to wait for her ride, shivering a little in the cold air. She’d just thrown the cup and wrapper in a litter bin when the big bus pulled into the bay. The driver descended and opened the luggage hatch, but she didn’t have anything large with her, so she showed him her ticket and he waved her towards the holepunch machine by his seat.

Inside the bus, the grey upholstery was oddly soothing. Sally took a window seat near the back and closed her eyes.
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Old 04-01-2015, 05:36 AM   #34
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I always felt like that too. When I got on a bus I just relaxed in that bubble of neither here nor there.... I hope her trip treats her well!
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Old 04-01-2015, 09:06 AM   #35
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Love this story so much xx
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Old 04-25-2015, 01:50 PM   #36
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Part V.

“We’ve arrived.” One of Sally’s fellow passengers, a woman in a bomber jacket, was tapping her cautiously on the shoulder.

“Erm? Oh, thanks for waking me.” Retrieving her weekend bag, she climbed down from the bus to find her father waving cheerily. He must have noticed her blinking in the bright sunshine, for after hugging her, he said:

“You look like you’ve had a few late nights recently. Studying too hard or partying too hard?” Sally smiled in spite of herself. She knew she was considered the wallflower of her family. Clapping her on the shoulder, her father added: “Well, we need to swing by the shopping plaza on the way home -- pick up some chouriço for the stuffing.” (Sally’s parents did a traditional North American turkey, with some Portuguese additions.) “Why don’t you get some coffee. That and a browse through the dollar store, you’ll feel like a new woman.”

“You know my weakness, Dad.” Well, perhaps not her every weakness. She’d never brought a boy home, after all.

Mr. Ferreria laughed through his moustache and climbed behind the wheel of the family car. They followed the curving roadways and pulled into the plaza parking lot. Taking her purse only, Sally waved briefly to her father, said:

“Meet you back here with the coffee,” and headed for the bright lights of the dollar store. Christmas and Hallowe’en items had been separated into adjacent aisles to avoid conflict. She strolled down each, looking for items to incorporate, and eventually settled on a spindle-shaped hanging tree ornament that flipped upside-down would, she thought, make a picturesque antenna. Then she hit the kitchenware aisle and picked up a couple of black quilted oven mitts, before paying and walking next door to pick up two medium double-doubles. Her father had left the car doors unlocked, but she waited outside for him, sipping her coffee while his sat cooling on the hood. She watched idly as shoppers carried items and loaded them into trunks, trying not to think about contacting Donald. If he wants to call, he will. She took out her phone and looked at his name on her contact list. She was about to open and re-read his past texts -- no harm in that, after all -- when her father reappeared with a grocery bag on each arm.

“How many things did you just pick up?”

“Well, I figured we might run out of rolls. And they had coffee on sale. And also oranges.”

* * * * *

The trouble with feasting on family-oriented holidays, Sally thought, is that it’s your own family that you get to watch overeat, which completely quelches the sex appeal. Shuddering at the thought of her father and uncle rubbing their stomachs and uttering rueful comments about having to diet for the next two months before doing it over again at Christmas, she fled to the garage to work on her costume. There were plenty of cardboard boxes, at least, and some leftover black spray paint with the Hallowe’en decorations she’d made for the front yard back in high school.

“Are you going to put those up?” One of her smaller cousins had followed her from the kitchen.

“Maybe later. I’m working on my costume.” With a black turtleneck and skinny jeans as a foundation, the oven-mitt “claws” and some sort of cardboard greaves over her biggest boots she could make this work. All that remained was to construct a mask. Sally had planned on using another cardboard box for the head, but when she came across an empty wastepaper bin, a happy thought struck her. Inverting it on her head, she checked the mirror and confirmed that she could see out through the black plastic mesh, while no one would be able to see in unless they brought their faces very close.

“Gordon probably won’t even be able to tell I’m female in this,” she exulted. “Now I just need to figure out how to attach the antenna.”

“Fishing line and hot glue? And who’s Gordon?”

“Someone I don’t like much, but he’s going to be at the same party, so I’d rather he not recognize me.”

“Like Mercia at my school?”

“Possibly.”

“What about people at the party you do like?”

“I’ll have to tell them what my costume’s going to be, I guess. Or come up and talk to them once I get there.”

* * * * *

“Nice Hermes get-up.” Grateful, Colin cautiously hugged Sally’s boxy costume.

“See? She gets it. Everyone else thinks I’m supposed to be Daisy Buchanan.”

“I suppose the tunic could look like a dress if you tilt your head. But I’ve had thought the wings were a giveaway.”

“And there’s no way I look like Gatsby,” rumbled Mark, adjusting the wreath of grape vines on his head. “I still think we should’ve gone as Norse gods, hon. I worry about you freezing your butt off.”

“Don’t worry, you’re my big heating pad.”

“Somebody say heating pad?” Nadia came up behind with her giant prop thermometer. “Sally, I’m not sure people are getting the Sailor Mercury costume. I may just have to claim I’m a sexy nurse.”

“Well, whatever works.” Sally peered through the mesh of her wastepaper-bin mask at the roomful of partygoers. There were a lot of sexy fill-in-the-blanks, of all genders. Also a highway (a sexy highway?) -- someone in black, anyway, with a white stripe down the front and little toy cars stuck on at intervals. The cars distinguished it from the skunk costume standing nearby. Near the door Godzilla had arrived, and was being photographed by Andy Warhol as two women in prom gowns, butterfly wings and false moustaches looked on. Gordon seemed absent from the scene, but so did Donald.
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Old 04-25-2015, 01:57 PM   #37
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Lovely to see a new update, thanks a lot
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Old 04-27-2015, 09:55 AM   #38
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Nice update! Thank you!
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Old 04-27-2015, 10:24 AM   #39
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"The trouble with feasting on family-oriented holidays, Sally thought, is that it’s your own family that you get to watch overeat, which completely quelches the sex appeal. Shuddering at the thought of her father and uncle rubbing their stomachs and uttering rueful comments about having to diet for the next two months before doing it over again at Christmas, she fled..."

^^^

THIS!!! So this!!!
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Old 04-27-2015, 10:55 AM   #40
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Xyantha Reborn View Post
"The trouble with feasting on family-oriented holidays, Sally thought, is that it’s your own family that you get to watch overeat, which completely quelches the sex appeal. Shuddering at the thought of her father and uncle rubbing their stomachs and uttering rueful comments about having to diet for the next two months before doing it over again at Christmas, she fled..."

^^^

THIS!!! So this!!!
I know, right?
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Old 04-27-2015, 11:39 AM   #41
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Oops double post.

Last edited by Xyantha Reborn; 04-27-2015 at 11:40 AM. Reason: Oops
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Old 04-27-2015, 01:46 PM   #42
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That, I admit, was inspired by a cartoon I saw on Tumblr a while back -- can't recall who by.
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Old 04-27-2015, 07:55 PM   #43
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I don't have the link, but the artist was definitely Agoutirex.
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Old 05-27-2015, 10:43 AM   #44
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Part Va.

Godzilla lurked next to a couch; his tail evidently kept him from sitting, and after a while he leaned himself carefully against a nearby wall, narrowly avoiding a lighting sconce and an electrical switch.

“Hey, a lounge lizard,” chirped Karen. She wore black jeans and a bustier, and Colin had indeed decorated her arms and shoulders with elaborate tattoo sleeves in four colours of magic marker. She carried a leather motorcycle jacket, slung over one shoulder so as not to cover the artwork.

“What’s she supposed to be, a hipster?” muttered a voice behind Sally, who nearly answered “no, a biker,” before she recognized Gordon, in a t-shirt that said THIS IS MY HALLOWE’EN COSTUME. Damn, almost blew my cover.

“And what’s with the sexy nurse and the rectal thermometer?” Gordon added, pointing at Sailor Mercury Nadia. Biting her tongue, Sally shrugged as best she could in her cardboard exoskeleton and looked around for an escape route. Staying too close to her friends might clue him in. As she looked for an opening, someone knocked against her shoulder, throwing her into Gordon, who yelled at her:

“Watch it buddy! What d’you think you’re doing?!”

“Sorry, dude” interrupted the skunk, balancing a plastic cup in each paw. “It was my fault -- I knocked into the robot.” But Gordon remained determined to keep the blame where he’d originally aimed it:

“What, he can’t answer for himself?” At least the disguise works, thought Sally. It had been all she could do not to say Sorry automatically.

“There a problem?” Godzilla had left his corner and was ambling majestically towards them, the crowd parting before him like a special-effect Red Sea.

“I’m feeling really attacked here,” Gordon began, as the skunk simultaneously insisted:

“I accidentally dominoed the robot into him. I said sorry, but he wants an apology from the robot too.” Sally had a brainwave:

“Bleep bloop. Bleee-oop,” she squeaked in her best R2D2 imitation, hoping she sounded both contrite, and unlike herself. “Bleeee.” Gordon gave her a hard look, but Donald (it was Donald in the Godzilla suit, she was sure of it), laid a massive claw on her cardboard shoulder-pad.

“That sounded like an apology to me,” came his voice, slightly muffled by the plush mask. He must be baking in there, she thought. He must not have recognized her voice, for he lifted his claw and turned to go. She followed, reasoning that this pre-cleared path was her best opportunity to walk away and identify herself to Donald -- if she wished.
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Old 05-27-2015, 11:14 AM   #45
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Hooray for an update

(even if tantalizingly brief)
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Old 05-28-2015, 06:22 AM   #46
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Talk about whetting my appetite!

Love it, hope you post more soon!!
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Old 06-01-2015, 06:09 AM   #47
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I can't wait to find out who is in the Godzilla suit....
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Old 07-14-2015, 09:53 AM   #48
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Part Vb.

So we grow together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition; Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;


“Hey, Godzilla!” It was Colin who shouted. “Look who’s here!” Turning carefully, Sally was in time to see him gesture with his caduceus at the doorway full of… Mecha-Godzilla?

Uh-oh. Sally tried to size up the newcomer from across the room, and through the mesh of her helmet. Mecha-Godzilla was tall, wide -- she couldn’t tell how much of the lumpy silver shape was the person inside and how much was padding, or maybe exoskeleton. Beside her, Godzilla chuckled and then roared playfully — he’d spotted his rival. She still couldn’t tell if the voice was Donald’s or not. The crowd parted for Mecha-Godzilla who drew nearer, emitting a staticky recorded noise — robotic roaring, and a theme tune. The costume had a voice chip. Of course it did. No way to try and recognize the wearer’s voice. Should she reveal herself? A glimpse of Gordon in the crowd decided her against it. Instead she bleeped and waved her oven-mitt claws as partygoers snapped pictures with their phones and Andy Warhol pulled out his vintage Polaroid camera.

“Godzilla Vs. Mecha-Godzilla! Fight!” shouted the Sexy Highway, and the crowd cheered. A chant went up:

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“The robot can referee!”

Glancing fearfully between the two monsters, Sally saw they’d already turned to face one another, striking sumo wrestlers’ poses. There seemed no other course of action, so she waved a hand between them and jumped back as they charged. The Hallowe’en crowd went wild as the costumed behemoths grappled. Truthfully, she might have enjoyed watching it herself, had she known who to root for; and her chest tightened at the possibility neither beast was Donald — that he might for some reason have chosen not to come to the party at all.

The two continued to jostle one another, until Godzilla, getting the upper claw, pulled the other into a bear hug and lifted him bodily off the ground. The entire room roared. Godzilla took a few paces into the crowd, finally setting down the squirming Mecha-Godzilla on a patch of bare floor that had opened up for him. Deciding she’d better call it, Sally clutched Godzilla’s arm and lifted it in victory. Mecha-Godzilla accepted defeat graciously, backing away with a bow — and into Gordon just as the latter was bellowing:

“FINISH HIM — oh *%^& it you loser! Why’s everyone shoving into me tonight?!"

“Oh, not him again,” said Godzilla. “Maybe we should step out back till things blow over.” Nodding inside her robot helmet, Sally followed the giant lizard to the fire door and stepped out into the laneway behind the building, to find him removing his head. She’d braced herself in case he wasn’t Donald, but was surprised to recognize the football player from her English class.

“Hang on a moment,” she said. “We’d better not leave Mecha-Godzilla at the mercy of Gordon.” Even if it isn’t Donald in the suit. “Let’s get him out here, say it’s for a photo.” They doubled back into the heat of the crowded room.

“Hey, bro --” Godzilla, unmasked, caught the mechanical lizard’s arm. “Can we get a picture together with the robot?” They left by the front door this time, Sally glancing back. Gordon seemed to have got lost in the crowd. Mecha-Godzilla gave his lower jaw a tug and it fell open, revealing Donald’s freckled face. He heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against the entrance.

“Thanks for the rescue. That guy is… unforgiving.”

“I know. Why do you think I came in disguise?” Sally pulled off her own helmet and was gratified by the engineer’s look of surprise and delight.

“It’s you!” He grabbed her oven mitt. “Nice costume.”

“But not soundproof.” She rolled her eyes in the direction of the party and winced. “Do you want to, I don’t know, find a coffee shop and come back here later? Maybe he’ll have calmed down or left.”

“Sure.” Donald glanced at Godzilla but the latter shrugged:

“I’ll just have a beer and ignore him. See you two later.”

Somehow, during the subsequent discussion of what places might still be open, the topic of the crosswalks came up again; and it suddenly seemed to Sally like a really good night to paint them, seeing as how she and Donald were already in disguise anyway.

“I picked up some white spray paint when I ran out of black for the costume and had to go to the hardware store,” she said. “It’s in my room.”

Fifteen minutes later a large silver lizard and a black robot were clumsily attempting to unroll a long strip of masking tape, when a scream rang out.

“Was that a party scream or a someone-in-danger scream?”

“Better check. I think it came from near the student centre.”

It is not easy to run in most Hallowe’en costumes, and Donald was not built for speed in any case. Sally was a couple of minutes ahead of him when she saw the source of the screams. Someone with intentions much more nefarious than theirs had also reasoned that a night where everyone was disguised was a good night to break laws; someone had attempted to mug the old lady in the yellow flip flops (though she hardly looked the sort to be carrying a lot of valuables), and she was having none of it.

Call the police on your phone -- oh damn. Her phone was back in her room; Hallowe’en costumes usually don’t have pockets, either. Try bluffing.

“Hey! What’re you doing?!” Better get their attention before threatening to call the cops. There were two of them, in rubber animal masks, and both turned slightly at the sound of her voice. The old lady took that moment to kick one, and Sally promptly abandoned the thought of convincing anyone she had a phone -- they were too busy to pay any attention. She leapt at someone’s back and made an effort to pin his arms, but found herself thrown to one side, the mesh of her costume-helmet painful against the side of her face. The lady was still screeching. Sally made a second attempt to bring down at least one attacker, this time grabbing wildly at a foot she saw on the ground before her. It worked, and a figure in jeans and a horse-head mask dropped with a curse. She caught a glimpse of a yellow sandal kicking his shoulder, but he sat up and scrambled towards Sally.

CLANK!

“Unf!”

The second mugger, in a chimp mask, collapsed on Horse-Mask and did not get up. Donald had finally arrived, breathing a bit heavily but with inertia very much on his side. Horse and Chimp had not fared so well against him as Godzilla had, Sally thought. She crawled towards the old lady, now slipping her feet back into her yellow flip flops with a surprising calm.

“Are you alright dear? The bat was right about you, I see.”

What?

“Sally!” Somebody in unwieldy armour -- Donald of course -- was pulling her to her feet and hugging her breathlessly.

Afterwards, there followed police and an hour of bewildering questions before the two muggers (no one Sally recognized, when their masks were removed) were taken away and another officer saw the old lady safely home.

“Still up for coffee?” asked Donald. “I don’t much feel like going back to the party, or to the crosswalk. Just as well we hadn’t started painting -- it would have been awkward to explain to the cops.” They’d stripped off the more unwieldy parts of their costumes by then, and Sally had abandoned her cardboard armour in a trash bin, though she still carried her headpiece. There was a pink imprint of the mesh on her cheek, but nothing so severe it wouldn’t fade by morning. She suddenly found herself shaking.

“We -- we just did that,” she stammered. “We fought two guys. Two scary guys.” Donald put his arms around her, calming her with his size and warmth.

“Should I walk you home instead, then?”

“Yes. I -- I think the adrenaline’s worn off. Don’t really want to be alone right now.”

“What did the old lady mean about a bat?”

“A bat?”

“I thought I heard her say ‘the bat was right about you.’ Maybe I just misheard.”
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Old 11-12-2015, 06:21 PM   #49
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When is moar coming??
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Old 11-13-2015, 07:08 AM   #50
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When is moar coming??
Such a good question!
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