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No

Of course you don't answer it; no one would think to call you at Fred Jacobsen's house. You ignore the sound of the telephone and engorge the chicken breast, licking the pads on your fingertips to savor the remaining juices. You ask yourself why you don't have such a feast more often. When every last morsel is gone, you run laps around the house to burn off some of the calories. Several of the rooms are still new to you, and you superficially look them over as you run by them one at a time. The most interesting is a dimly lit bedroom, and you go inside to have a closer look.


Written by Joey Liverwurst

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