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how_much_does_a_hemingway
sacramentalist

(no subject)

There's a store turned into an office down the street. It was a used musical instrument shop years ago. Now the windows are covered in white so you can't see in. There is always a closed sign, but I've seen people go in, but never anyone coming out. There's some stained glass things on the window. So maybe something kid-related, or religious? There are three churches across the street. So, what is it?

Probably some kind of pxian youth group, or social-worker counseling. That, or the lowest-traffic methadone clinic in town. I really prefer the mystery to the truth sometimes. In the middle of a local bar, there was a door. We used to make up stories of what was inside the door. We'd say there's an old man sitting in there, who would yell at people "Shut that damn door!" Then some spoilsport got annoyed with our imaginations and looked inside. A boiler. BOHRING! But not for too long. This just proved they used the souls of children to warm The Loop. And Red Dog beer is make of people. People!

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The Loop is closed? That's a damn shame.

The mysterious place down the street from you is probably some sort of underground drug operation.

Oh no. It's still open. Just haven't been there in years.


Drug cult!

Human trafficking!

yes, keep the mystery. I'm always going digging, and always regretting it.

Mysteries are more memorable than facts. But fact-fnding is a skill as much as, uh, skylarking.




Edited at 2013-04-15 06:13 pm (UTC)

I don't know what skylarking is, and you know what, I'm not going to google it.

It's another word for play.



The potentiality is always more fun than the reality.

Perhaps it's a North Korean spy headquarters.

Filming amateur meth-fueled porn. No, wait, that's Detroit.

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