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248 lines
6.1 KiB
Text
248 lines
6.1 KiB
Text
.LP
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.ce
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.ps 16
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.CW
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YOU'VE POSTED THIS BEFORE
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.R
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.ps 8
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.CW
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tags: 1990, john_ratcliff, ken_thompson, piro, tab2
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.R
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.ps 10
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.br
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.ce
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.ps 10
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.B 1
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.PP
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.ps 10
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The Chrysler Building. New York. 1990.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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January.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"You've posted this before."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"No shit."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"So why are you posting it again?"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Piro arched an eyebrow. "It's tradition."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Seriously?"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Piro sat at the keyboard clacking away. Simple, declarative
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sentences. Topical assertions.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Nobody cares about this stupid newsletter," offered Thomas.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Piro remained silent. Typing.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Nobody's even going to read it."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Silence.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Your spelling sucks."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Piro flicked on the radio and turned up the volume.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Thomas grimaced. "I hate reading."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Piro leaned over the mimeograph machine, making small adjustments
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to various knobs and switches while Thomas fidgeted in the doorway.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"There's literally no way I'm going to help you fold all of those
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things."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"I don't care."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"This whole side\-project is stupid. You really think the
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value\-added is necessary? This stuff sells itself. No 'free gift with
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purchase' required."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Piro stopped what he was doing and turned to face his twin brother.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"If you're not going to contribute to the newsletter, please go
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into the kitchen and start bagging up rocks."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Thomas shrugged and wandered out of the room.
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.ce
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.ps 10
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.B 2
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Ken steered the Actron Team's 1978 Lincoln TOWN CAR\f(CW™\fR through the
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streets of Alphabet City. Trash on the sidewalk reflected in the car's
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fresh candy paint. Passing some children, Ken boosted the volume on the
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custom sound system. The children giggled and pointed. He smiled and
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mashed the gas pedal. Shining.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Destination: THE G\-SPOT\f(CW™\fR.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Ken rounded the final corner and slowly brought the outsized car to
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a stop. He lowered a tinted window and inspected his immediate
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surroundings. The parking lot was deserted save for two NYPD cruisers
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and a 1979 Chevrolet MONTE CARLO\f(CW™\fR (sky blue metal flake, white interior,
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whitewall tires; that would be John). Ken popped the collar on his polo
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shirt and exited the vehicle.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Inside, the club was all but vacant. Smoke from an abandoned
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cigarette snaked upward towards a light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
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The two police officers were inspecting a briefcase full of cocaine.
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One of them turned around and smiled dumbly, coke caked in his
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mustache. John Ratcliff stood nearby, a duffel bag full of money slung
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over his shoulder. When he saw his partner he frowned and shrugged.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Ken stood in the entryway and surveyed the empty stage. Strobe
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lights clicked rhythmically, strangely loud in the otherwise silent
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environs.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Where the white women at?" he finally asked.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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The cop with the coke mustache started to giggle, but never
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finished his outburst. Ken activated his super\-speed and closed the
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distance between himself and the two officers in a hundred milliseconds
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flat. He slammed the meat of his open hand into the first officer's
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chin, then rolled with the momentum into the second officer's chest,
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following him to the ground. Both cops collapsed, unconscious, Ken
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straightened himself and dusted off his knees.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Hmph," he he remarked, unimpressed.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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John hoisted both men from the floor and hung them by their jacket
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collars on coat hooks near the front entrance. Each would see hospital
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time but neither would suffer permanent injury. John tossed the bag
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full of money at Ken and made his way over to the bar to pour himself a
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drink.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Tired of this grind."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"So quit."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"You're funny."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Ken sighed.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Yeah."
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.ce
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.ps 10
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.B 3
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Outside, some children had wandered into the parking lot and were
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peering inside Jon's MONTE CARLO\f(CW™\fR, noses pressed up against the glass.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Boy, is that white leather?"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Sure is."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"My brother's car is like this, but his doesn't have leather."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Sounds like your brother needs to find himself a better paying
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job."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Ken flopped the briefcase full of coke onto the hood of the car.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Take this to your brother. If he brings it back in a week, filled
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with money..."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"We have great health insurance," interrupted John. "Dental and
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vision. Also, free car detailing. We'll see what we can do about his
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vinyl seats."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"Wow, mister! Thanks!"
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.PP
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.ps 10
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John patted the boy on the head and then got into the MONTE CARLO\f(CW™\fR
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and peeled out. Ken smoked a cigarette, wandered back to the Lincoln
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and rolled over a beer bottle on his way out of the parking lot. There
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was no damage to the TOWN CAR\f(CW™\fR's bullet\-proof tires.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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As soon as the adults were gone the boys pounced on the briefcase,
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numerous hands scooping out coke and heaving it carelessly over their
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shoulders. As it happened, directly into the wind. Some of the powder
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blew back and caught in their teeth and hair. Undeterred by this minor
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annoyance, the boys wiped the backs of their hands across their faces
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and soon discovered the rows of individually wrapped crack rocks that
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lined the bottom of the briefcase. Immediately, they went to work
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removing the wrappers.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Tossing the pebbles of crack aside, each paper wrapper was
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inspected closely, compared carefully with the others. Soon it became
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apparent that all of the wrappers were identical. Worse, the material
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was immediately recognizable. Not just predictable, but in fact an
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exact duplicate of an issue they had all read before.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"It's a fucking reprint," said one of the boys.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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He flipped over the wrapper, frantically scanning for the publisher
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information. There, printed in bold Helvetica, was the name of their
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nemesis:
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Massive Fictions. Piotr Bright, Publisher.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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The Chrysler Building.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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NYC.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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One of the boys produced a brick phone from his backpack and put in
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a call to headquarters.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Calling in for backup.
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