Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   heart attacks and mercy killings
Wednesday, June 16 2004
I was back at the house on Eagle's Nest Road working on the power when Charlie dropped by again. He's a nice guy, but I could see this becoming a problem. Happily for me, I was just packing up to leave, having discovered I could make no further progress without a set of bolt cutters. Charlie told me that a seriously injured deer had dragged itself up the mountain and collapsed next to his cabin. Something had torn a sheets of skin off the deer and great expanses of raw flesh were attracting clouds of flies. Unfortunately, the deer was still alive and suffering. So Charlie was waiting for a state trooper to come up and put the poor thing out of its misery. Charlie would have killed it himself, he said, but he can't stand to take a life.
I saw the trooper coming out on Wynkoop Road as I headed to the Stewarts for my usual Stewarts purchases: gas, corn chips, beer, and icecream. A few minutes later some medical crisis took place at the Hurley Mountain Inn. Someone had evidently eaten one cheeseburger too many. An ambulance arrived and more emergency personnel were on their way. As I was heading back out on Wynkoop, the trooper who'd gone to dispatch the deer came tearing back with lights a'flashing. Perhaps somebody's heart attack had the effect of delaying its mercy killing.


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