Category Archives: @Guert

Poop Goes the Pigeon

“Gather ’round, my good friends,” he said. One by one, they flocked to the fire.

Word quickly spread, the city was tearing down all the statues, and there was going to be organized outrage. #OccupyMarble began.

Organization was hard with this group, most of which were prone to distraction by stray trash swirling nearby the fire.

Luckily, a leader had emerged. Werble was young and plump with a Master’s in Public Speaking. He knew how to unify the masses.

“Quool! Quool!” Clearing his throat, Werble got everyone’s attention. “Friends, many a feather is ruffled today by the…”

“…developments that going on down south,” he began. The followers wobbled in agreement. “But let us not let that stop us!”

Towards the back of the huddled mass was a drum-pigeon. Banging horribly off-beat in 2-3 step. It threw off Werble’s cadence.

A murder of black crowes began circling overhead, casting wicked shadows on the flock below.

The leader of the crows, Chris, looked at the mass below and began thinking aloud, “they are going to be Hard to Handle”

Chris watched as Werble’s out-of-step eyes were drawn to the sign: “World’s Largest Outdoor Car Show in town today.”

And there it sat, there in the parking lot…everyone’s favorite car. The top target of targets…

… the 1961 Ferrari 250GT California. Less than 100 were made. It was the town’s love, it is the town’s passion. It was…

…the stupid human’s fault he didn’t park in a garage. “Let’s make a statement, boys!” shouted Werble. Protesters took to sky…

…circling. One big, giant blog of gray feathers. “When I give the signal, you know what to do!” yelled Werble.

All of the sudden a wild pack of Honey Badgers arrived. They looked hungry.

Werble paid no attention and forged ahead, signaling with his claw, mangled from a barbed wire incident, three times. The flock…

…descended from the sky emitting an eerie shriek. That noise was deafening to the stupid humans below. Suddenly and without warning

A gale force wind picked up and blew the flock off course. But this formidable breeze was no coincidence.

A huge crow shaped spacecraft emerged from the overcast sky. In the pilot’s seat was

Meryl Streep, the self-proclaimed leader of the International Bovine Transmology Debate Team.

At her side, Cee Lo Green, the self proclaimed Prince of….

…St. Luke’s Presbyterian Medical Center, raised his fist. “Arm the torpedoes!” he shouted, pointing at…

The Boston Billionaires Retreat was being held at the D-Luxe Inn. A veritable hodge podge of the richest peeps in the land.

Meryl, channeling her character from the recent hit, Labyrinth 2: Back to da Maze, raised her crystal necklace to the sun

She and the Occupy group had hated the BBR Club ever since they’d bankrolled the Land Before Time franchise.

The crystal’s power would certainly settle the score. It had the power to…

incite the black-toed dirtybirds to recite the most diabolical of chants.

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me…

…for I must be traveling on now,” chanted the flock. The BBR Club stood no chance against Freebird and retreated to the Inn.

Which is exactly what Streep, Green and Werble wanted. The flock attacked, unleashing enough droppings to turn the blue sky white.

The 1961 Ferrari 250GT California sat there helpless to the onslaught.

Splat! Squish! Bam! The car had no chance. Werble’s eyes got bigger as he swooped in for the kill shot, landing on the hood.

He took a moment to adjust his bowtie. Flashed a smile at Meryl, then let loose.

That poor, poor hood.

THE END

 

Funny story this week. Werble and the pigeons staging a protest. And with the help of Meryl Streep and Cee Lo Green, they were able to show those rich, stuck up Boston Billionaires a thing or two. If only our government could learn a thing or two from a bunch of pooping pigeons. But I guess there’s still time.

Thanks to all the writers on this story – @RobotStephe, Chrisa_Hickey, @MojoEnvy, @TonyPawela, @AZHockeyNut, @MusicAdamT, @Guert, @paulmtracy, @courtcan and @hwtibbs. You guys were great, even despite Twitter continuing to mess with tweets in the timeline.

As an aside, I think this is probably my last story. I’ve been doing this for about a year now, and it feels about time to wrap it up, take what we’ve collectively written and do something with it. When I started, I had no idea what this would become. I was hoping to get a few short stories here and there. But because of all of you, it exceeded my expectations. So thank you. And don’t worry – when I’ve decided what to do with these stories we’ve all written together, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Thanks.

-Josh

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Somewhere Over the Rainbow

“The pot of gold must be on top of that red brick building,” she thought. And the hunt was on.

“But how can I get there before Maggie,” she whined, “when she’s a giant and I’m so small?”

Not to be deterred, she grabbed her Ziploc® of loose change, and headed out the door. Cab would be the best way to get there.

“A cab, a cab, who called a cab?” Up pulled Mike the psychic cab driver.

“I did,” Margie said. “Take me to -” “I know where – and we’re racing against Maggie!” Exclaimed Mike as he sped off.

Maggie though had decided public transportation was the way to go and was stuck behind a stroller pushing mother.

The streets were full of vendors, stray dogs and, a camel. All of this was slowing the cab down. Margie was losing time.

Maggie was having problems of her own on the magenta line. Babies were everywhere!

Margie jumped from the cab and lept onto the camel in one swift movement.

However, at a point later in the story, Margie will realize that she left her Ziploc® bag in the cab. This does not bode well…

Since in addition to nickels and dimes the bag contained a gps tracker she had planted on Maggie.

While Margie was camel-leaping, Maggie was having troubles of her own. $4.46 for a medium latte? This city is getting ridiculous.

Margie drove ever-forward in the camel, nestled lovingly between the two humps. Inching closer to the red building.

Meanwhile, the pot of gold was shrinking because

of the hole in the pot, which Lloyd the Leprechaun bought second hand at a garage sale.

“You get what you pay for,” Larry muttered to himself. Not realizing…

…that he referred to himself as Larry instead of Lloyd, it became apparent to others that Lloyd might have a split personality.

Larry-Lloyd spoke those words to himself, but Maggie thought he was speaking to her. Finally, a bright spot in her day.

Meanwhile the camel, who’s name was Manfred, started running toward an oasis filled with rice milk.

Meanwhile, across town…

The real story was unfolding: Leprechauns in Lakeview. Not just there for drinks at Berlin, but apparently hiding gold on rooftops.

Neighborhood gossip placed at least one leprechaun working in the back at Cheesie’s Pub & Grub – specializing in potatoes.

Of course, the inevitable drunk Irish jokes are bound to come out when they hide gold so close to 1000 Liquors.

One leprechaun noticed Margie and her camel at the rice-milk oasis. “How much for the camel?” he asked.

“Not for sale,” said Margie. “No, I mean the one behind your ear,” he replied. “I could use a cigarette.” Margie loved her Camels.

Maggie trudged forward in her Converse® All-Stars. She never played basketball, but loved the green plaid design.

She got to the rooftop but the pot of gold was gone. Margie was already off in Mexico enjoying her riches. And cigarettes.

THE END

 

Anytime Leprechauns, booze, cigarettes and gold are involved, it’s impossible not to have a good time. This week’s story was all about greed, and Margie managed to outfox her sister Maggie. Poor Maggie. Maybe she could go get a drink with Lloyd-Larry at Berlin. Or they could just go get a handle of some Irish whiskey at 1000 Liquors and wallow in their sorrows.

The way these stories unfold always crack me up – stuff like when Lloyd the Leprechaun became Larry the Leprechaun and the use of the ®. I’m grateful for everyone who writes these stories with me. Collaborating on this one were @Robotstephe, @Chrisa_Hickey, @swanieson, @paulmtracy, @FeliciaCago, @Guert, @jsetlak and @officerpupp. Thanks all.

 

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Monkeying Around

There was no announcement, no warning, nothing. One morning, it was just there. But why? And what was it?

From a distance, it had the appearance of a grotesque gingerbread house, one that would haunt the dreams of kids and adults alike.

It was too late. The abstract structure was not art, it was an ad. USP’s had been seeping into their brains.

“Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun,” sang Igor, in a trance as he walked by.

With the sequence of words the structure started to come to life.

Roaring to life, sugar stalagmites punched up from the ground, and the unmistakable smell of confection surrounded the passerby.

Igor has longed to officially change the lyrics to, “two all beef patties special sauce, special cheese”. Now was his chance.

As Igor sang his revision of the classic, his James Earl Jones-ish voice began to shake the sugar walls of the structure.

As small cracks covered the structure, a haze of sugar crystals rose, filling the clearing. Igor found himself unable to see the

large statue of

the Chief Monkey. Igor knew that 80% of monkeys had never even seen this statue. It was a special day.

With complete reverence, Igor approached the statue. But, as he got closer, the hairs on the back of his knuckles started rising

at the sight of the group of monkeys quickly approaching.

He didn’t recognize them and signaled to Tango, the other sentry on duty. “Tango, head back to the village and find Marrick.”

80% of those monkeys had never even seen a person. Igor was getting nervous.

When Igor got nervous he tended to eat. Unluckily for him all he had to eat was

pie. He always carried a tin of French Silk. As the silky chocolate mousse slithered through his teeth, Tango arrived with Marrick.

“Can I have a piece?” asked Marrick. Tango was none too thrilled, considering the fate of the whole monkey population was at stake.

So Tango reminded Igor and Marrick what they were truly fighting for,

which is their right to manufacture and market their product “Anti Monkey But Powder®” to humans.

With it, they thought, they could change the world. But the statue had other ideas. No way was it going to

stop now. The statue has plans of its own and Igor’s teeth tingled, a sign of danger. But why now?

A earthquake earlier in the week apparently had woke up sleeping monkeys.

The earthquake was so large that it knocked over a chair. Scientists believe this is what caused the monkeys to wake up.

Mango Mama arrived. She had a pot of bok choy, tofu, scallions.”Dinner, dig in!” she yelled. Food smelled good, salty.

Igor, Marrick and Tango started eating, forgetting about statues and monkeys so they could enjoy a good meal. Meanwhile

sugar crystals started to melt and the monkeys want to learn to make fire

Mango Mama stomped in the room, yelled “Clear the table. Wash the dishes.” She whisked the pot away,emptied it.

Mango Mama worried, “Storms coming. Skies are angry.” A clap of thunder roared. Lightning lit the horizon.

As Mango Mama left the kitchen and Igor decided it was time…He knew it from this morning. Today was the day a monkey would

meet a real human. Igor was prepared and had read all about their habits. He quickly went to his room, he needed to warn

the others. But the other monkeys were too busy trying to learn how to make fire. “Guys!” Igor yelled. “What’s with the dancing?”

“Dancing?” Mango Mama began. “Is that all you see? Must you always be so duo-syllabic?”

“Duo-syllabic?” Igor retorted. “Must you always be so quinto-syllabic?” Igor was always good for a snarky comeback.

A shock rippled through Mango Mama’s mohawk. She reached behind her petticoat, and pulled out a tall

glass of pina colada.

She took a sip and offered Igor some. But he was too busy patting Mango Mama’s mohawk, wondering what else she might have in there.

With a unicorn holding the glass with its horn & a glowing rainbow mane hawk. At last!

Yes. At last. Igor had finally found the glass-holding unicorn with the glowing rainbow mane. He had been searching for it since

yesterday. It may be only a day to humans, but to monkeys, it’s more like 3650. Roughly. We never said monkeys were good at math.

His daughter asked him to look for it while she was watching Pokemon.

He lost the glass in a drinking contest to that damned unicorn. Who knew that lone horn would be the difference in flippy cup?

Beer pong was always his game to lose. If only he could convince

Mango Mama to partake in a game. He was certain he could avenge his flippy cup loss. He ran to his home and got some Silo cups.

Then 80% of the World’s monkeys showed up thinking it was a videogame pong contest.

Silo cups were unfortunately in short supply due to the jello shots made earlier that day.

The statue, watching all this happen, contorted. In the center arose a pristine, long wooden table with 10 cups on each side.

Igor went to one side of the table, Mango Mama to the other. Marrick played ref. “Game on!” he yelled. Mango threw the first ball.

She missed. Igor’s turn. He tosses his ball, and it goes right in the back corner cup. 1-0. Mango Mama chugs that cup’s beer.

Bbbbbbllllllllllllrrrrrrppppppppphphphphphppppppp.

She finishes chugging, slams the cup down & wipes her face. Mango Mama’s up. She tosses her next ball. Bam! Right in the front cup.

Wait a minute… Where did all the monkeys go?

The monkeys look on in anticipation as Igor chugs the beer.

Wait a minute… Where did all the monkeys go?

Mango Mama & Igor trade shots. He hits one. She hits one. He misses one. She misses one. And on until they’re down to one cup each.

The monkeys are riveted. Mango Mama’s up. If she hits this shot, it’s over. Igor will never be able to face his daughter again.

She takes her shot. It’s a high arc-er. The ball moves, almost in slow motion. Right at the cup. Is it going to go in?

With a plop it goes in. Igor hangs his head in shame until it bounces back out.

Apparently one of the jello shots made it to the beer pong game.

Igor didn’t care. Because now it was his turn. For all the marbles. Errrr…glass cup. Make this shot, and he can go home.

He throws his ping pong ball. It’s right on target. Could this be it? Could this be the shot that avenges his flippy cup loss?

As an extra surprise the winner flies home on the Unicorn with the rainbow mane.

And the ball misses! Having lost again he flips the table, downs the jello shots and walks away a sore loser.

THE END

So this story brought back memories from college. Monkeys, unicorns, crystals…wait. I mean beer pong and flippy cup. Yeah, that’s it. Our friend Igor could have had a happily ever after, except he sucked at drinking games. Too bad for him. Guess he shouldn’t have been so confident in his abilities. And the photo wasn’t too key in the story. Oh well. I tried to loop it in a little at the end, but let’s face it, beer pong playing monkeys are way more interesting.

Thanks to myself for providing the photo. Ha!

And thanks to all of today’s writers: @Robotstephe, who wrote early and late. @kevinegan80, who made a surprise appearance. @swanieson, who turned Igor from a winner into a loser. @hwtibbs, who brought Tango and Marrick into the story. @Guert, who has an infatuation with 80% of the world’s monkeys. @Pawela04, who jumped in earlier in the day, then came back with the sound of Mama Mango chugging her first beer pong cup. @AnalystQueen, a new writer (we love new writers!), who introduced Mango Mama into the story. @kvpops, another new writer (we love new writers!), who, despite the time difference between here and India and the cultural nuances was able to contribute. @nella22, who writes pretty much every single time, and helped keep the story moving when there was a little bit of a lull. @vnarvasa, who claims she was sober when she wrote her first tweet tonight, yet it made no sense. @1god, another new writer (we love new writers!), who made Igor have something to play for. and @rickmurray, whose MO seems to be to jump in late with a tweet just before going to bed, and this time, he brought college drinking games into the mix.

Good stuff. Thank you all. Like I said, I can’t do this without you guys.

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Feeding Frenzy

He snapped the last button, secured the final strap. The moment he had been practicing for was here.

Peeling himself off the wall was the only hard part about being a spokes banana.

The rest of the job “appeeled” to him so much! The money, the screaming fans, and, most especially, all the fruit he could eat.

He scarfed one more piece of fruit. He was ready. As his entrance music began playing, the crowd started chanting his name.

“Apple! Apple!”

The audience was filled with kids and grownups alike. They had traveled all the way from Southern French Guiana to see Apple.

This was his most important gig yet; his first since signing with Louis Vuitton.

He grabbed the microphone. It smelled like

an exhaust pipe. This instantly reminded him of his uncle Tuck, all those years ago, of that afternoon in the woods.

Apple’s lip quivered at the memory. Uncle Tuck versus a female Grizzly. It hadn’t been a fair fight.

As soon as Uncle Tuck had saw the bear he ran so fast all that could be found of his was a banana peel

And his car’s exhaust pipe. They never did find Tuck. And now Apple couldn’t get the thought of his uncle out of his head.

But still, he had to keep going. He started speaking into the mic. “Are you

ready for dinner, buds?” Apple was the newest zookeeper in the San Diego zoo’s monkey forest. And LV was their new sponsor.

Better monkeys than bears: Tuck was mauled to death during the ’08 recession as the Bear Stearns-sponsored bear (in a bear market).

Apple got along great with primates. All animals, really. His problem was people, especially…

The guy from Chaquita that kept calling to try and sponsor

a new branch of the company that is well known for their bananas.

But he pushed those thoughts aside. “I’m a professional, Dammit.” The light momentarily blinded him, and his throat itched.

Apple clucked his throat to alleviate the itchiness. The monkeys, though, thought it was a mating call.

The lights dimmed, soft carnival music began to play and the room took on the familiar odor of Vaseline and whipped cream.

LV was testing a new fabric, of which Apple’s costume was constructed. Fashioned into a human-sized banana, it was about to

undergo a stress test like no other. The monkeys were hungry. About to tear Apple the human banana to delicious pieces.

LV began by making trunks and travel bags. Was Apple unwittingly wearing what would become his own body bag, or would it hold up?

But before a claw was laid on him, the ghost of Louis Vuitton’s mustache appeared and issued a stern warning.

“Ne pas faire l’amour avec ma banane!”

But the monkeys kept getting closer, ignoring the ghost’s warning. Apple needed to get out of his suit. Fast.

If only he could find the zipper in the blasted suit.

He got to the zipper just before he was taken into the monkeys’ clutches, escaping. The monkeys were left holding a flat banana.

Though he was out of the banana suit he was left with only his

coordinating yellow, LV boxer shorts,

The ones he had been meaning to replace since they had a large

portion missing on the backside due to Apple being a flat banana.

Fortunately, Apple’s endorsement deal included getting a Louis Vuitton logo tattoo back there, so no one was the wiser.

In fact, the display was a great success, winning Apple a coveted VP of Marketing position.

“Congratulations, Apple,” said his boss, Orange. “You showed you could handle the pressure of monkeys during mating season.”

“Now lets see how you handle a friendly round of competitive karaoke.”

They headed to the bar, where Apple wasted no time picked out his favorite jam – “Killing Me Softly” by the Fugees.

Apple and Orange spent the rest of the night battling on the karaoke stage. Anything to get Apple’s mind off of Uncle Tuck.

THE END

 

This one left me wondering a lot of things. We had Apple, the guy dressed in a banana suit, who went from feeding the monkeys at a zoo to becoming the VP of Marketing. Where though? The soo? Louis Vuitton? I will say this – how could you NOT feel for him after what happened to his Uncle Tuck? Wait..what happened to his Uncle Tuck??? So many unanswered questions.

Thanks to @natapava for supplying the photo. She’s a newb, or noob, so we’ll take involvement any way we can get it. And thanks to @swanieson, @courtcan, @Guert, @paulmtracy, @officerpupp, @jimmydoestea, @Pawela04 and @jsetlak for writing today. Special shout-out to @ChrisDavisCW who’s also a noob and added a pretty funny line, as well as @Robotstephe, who saw my karaoke skills firsthand and STILL decided to jump in on a story. I must not have sucked as bad as it sounded to me like I did.

 

 

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Star Crossed

“Why you gotta be frontin’?” she yelled as her friends and ponies tried to hold her back.

This was starting to irritate Luna, who had been living w/ this pressure for the past 5 years. Running into Star, her stomach turned

beneath her purple dress. But she couldn’t let Star know that. Instead, she kept yelling, puffing out her chest, acting tough.

“Take that nasty ass blonde weave outta my face. You ain’t foolin’ no one, biatch,” she continued.

Luna lunged at Star, grabbing her hair. Pony, the pink pony, tried to separate them. “My hair!” screamed Star. “Give it back!”

Luna waved the weave defiantly as Star watched in horror, hairless. No one knew why Luna was livid, just that she was.

“Who did you sleep with to get to model the ball gown?” Luna whined. She was stuck in a jumper that was more appropriate to Skipper.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” sneered Star. “Yes I would,” responded Luna candidly. “That’s why I asked.” Star was caught off guard.

“You always think you’re so much smarter than everyone, Luna,” said Star. “But if you’re so smart, how come I’m in the ball gown?”

Mother knocked on the door. “Star, honey, please open up. Maybe you should put the dolls down and come to dinner with us.”

“My precious… my precious unicorn ponies,” Star mumbled incoherently. Then, louder, “Coming, mother. Just a second.”

Star’s mother worried about her. Star didn’t leave the house much, and she was always trying to shave Luna, their cute Pomeranian.

In fact, ever since she’d fallen asleep while watching a Jem marathon, Star hadn’t been the same. Ears raw from the many rounds…

of ear pulling, she’d taken to walking around the house in bejeweled stirrup pants. Her homework was signed Jerrica Benton. It…

reminded Mother of her Aunt Jeanne, upstate in a sanitarium. Poor Jeanne – half Carol Burnett, half Ethel Merman. Mother wasn’t…

about to let another daughter end up like Jeanne, not again, not again…

Not after she already lost Astor, her oldest. Most days, you could find her staring at doors, trying to open them with her eyes.

“Kids!” Mother yelled. “Time to go to Olive Garden!” Mother and Star went outside, but Astor stood still, staring at the doorknob.

Astor petted Luna. “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” Mother gave up and promised bread sticks.

Star came back inside to get Astor and dragged her away from Luna. But when they got outside, Mother was nowhere to be found.

They searched for her inside and out, noticing her car was still in the driveway. Where could Mother have “flown” to this time?

Luna heard Star mumbling to herself, “mommy in the can… mommy… the garbage.” Luna’s eyes widened in horror. She runs towards

their garbage can, behind the car. Tears are welling up, in her eyes as she reaches to open the lid. She gasps, shocked by what she

just realized – Luna, the Pomeranian, not only understands what humans say, but can move around like one too. Star’s jaw drops.

Hiding inside of the garbage can, was her mother, Luna always feared this day would come. Her aunt Jeanne had the same

…fate. Star is stunned. Like a robot she starts tweeting feverishly instead of calling 911. All of the sudden…

she gets a DM from her father, who had been in prison for the past 10 years and was now…ON TWITTER?!

Luna can’t help noticing the perplexed look, on Star’s face. What’s wrong with her; and why hasn’t she called for help? Then

without any warning their mother jumps out of the garbage can, tears all of her clothes off, running down the street screaming…

…”I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!” to which Luna (now human form) and Star looked at each other and shrugged. Meanwhile, Father was

contemplating, as he braids his lover’s hair. Should I tweet her? Such a delicate child; but she needs to know, I’m in love with…

in love w Ricky Martin… He bangs, he bangs! Here we go! Closet drummer, too. He starts to tweet her &…

then gets distracted by THE HONEY BADGER! Like the Honey Badger he said, “I don’t care. I don’t give a sh*t!”

“Whoa watch out, says that bird (from a bird’s eye view). Star still hasn’t heard from her Dad, but she starts to hear drums…

not just any kind of drums but a super clean drum line. Snares, Tenors, Bass. The whole shebang. Well it is that time of year…

Luna looks at Star & says, “Is today a holiday?” Rounding the corner, on their street, is a fully dressed marching band, led by…

Mother, in marching gear. “What happened to the bread sticks from Olive Garden you promised?” asked Star. Astor was dumbfounded.

“In a minute,” Mother yelled in between the first and second verse of Poker Face. Star and Astor sang along, drawn in by the beat.

Star didn’t notice mom leading the band w/breadsticks, in hand. After the final verse, she threw the bread sticks at Star saying…

What a day… we need to get those bread sticks from the Olive Garden and get ready for Shark Week. Tired, they hugged &…

peeled away from the marching band. They jumped in the car, headed to Olive Garden, & ate unlimited salad and bread sticks.

THE END

 

Whoa. Just whoa. I don’t even know what happened in this story. It was really hard to follow, and normally I’m pretty good at keeping the storyline on track. What started out as a fight turned into a kid’s imagination, which then turned into a streaking Mom, a human-like Pomeranian, Ricky Martin and unlimited salad and bread sticks at Olive Garden. I could barely keep up. All I know is Astor and Star are two lucky girls for finally being able to chow on those delicious, garlicky logs of heaven. I’m jealous.

Thanks to @kikiandkyle for the photo, which started this wild tale. And thanks to all those who wrote. The vets – @nella22, @Chrisa_Hickey, @jimmydoestea and @hwtibbs – you guys always make me laugh. And we had a bunch of newbs – @_Benny_K, @javilabbe, @vnarvasa, @honey_badger_, @Guert – which is awesome. You guys carried the end of the story. Hope you all contribute again next time.

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