Lost World of the Wends (44)

Boris swaggered into the church and crawled up the wall at the back of the hall. Now let’s see what these suckers are up to. He nursed his stump. The new hand was already pushing its way into existence—like a shark’s tooth; it merely replaced the one bitten off.

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Storm in a Chicken Coop

We struck a deal, I’d wash and they’d wipe. Fair enough. Sort of. They reasoned that I’d have to clean up my mess of chocolate cake. No mention of Dad’s Indonesian Rice splatters. But then, who was I to complain?

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