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Like a Fly on a Wall
The other evening Christine and I were cozy on our couch when out of the depths of our basement roamed an insidious insect of general description. It looked like a cross between a silverfish and a lady bug. Having drawn the ire of Christine by simply peacefully co-existing with her, my wife directed me to vanquish the nefarious ne’er-do-well, which bothered me because I didn’t feel like getting up.
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