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Date Posted: 12:42:44 10/01/02 Tue
Author: Ben
Subject: Re: who wants to create?
In reply to: Snuffleupuguss 's message, "Re: who wants to create?" on 20:29:37 09/29/02 Sun

and with that he stopped abruptly and turned sharply into a small, tatty, run down shop. "The usual Sam" he murmered. Sam obeyed, he reached behind him and brought out a packet of McCough Cigars. "I owe you" he said to Sam. This remark started Sam up to one of his usual speeches. "Why if I had a 1000 krupicles for everytime you...". "Yeah, yeah, shut up Sam. I told you I'd pay you, just only when I get the cash". Sam shrugged and walked into the back room. Followed by the ribbon as they conversed about the local Olympigs (woops, what a typo! lol) team.

Back on the street, he already had his cigar smouldering and now he was free of the ribbon, he stepped into the alleyways and polished his .72 with his sleeve. He hid it behind his ripped loose shirt. As he walked along, the alley, smelling of smoke and sweat, striding like an american police officer who had just pulled up someone speeding (what a simile!). The air was thick with the stench of the city above, pollutants that were pumped to the levels below. He turned the corner and soon a trail of heavy smoke from the cigars trailed behind him as suddenly he turned a corner and instantly dissapeared behind it again. As he hid behind a pile of supply crates he peered between a couple of the and it became instantly obvious why he had hidden, there, standing just infront of him was...


Ben

((AND NOT THE RIBBON!!)

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