Then the babysitter began to read a book. Presumably some sort of manual of gnome evasion.
Her knight in shining armor returned home from work and cleared a path through the gnomes the only way he knew how: brute force!
By the time Duke fought his way to Meatbaby the babysitter was gone. Dead or whisked away through means unknown, it didn't matter to Duke. It was somebody's birthday!
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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