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LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY SAAB III
I was turning over moon rocks, the wreck of Moonbase 4 still sending plumes of black smoke up into the atmosphere.
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I was turning over moon rocks, the wreck of Moonbase 4 still sending plumes of black smoke up into the atmosphere.
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I was relayed coordinates from a Russian lieutenant, trapped and sinking aboard a ruined nuclear submarine.
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I won it in an illegal game of holocards on the floating city at midnight on Halloween.
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Margaret Thatcher died and her everlasting soul left her body and plunged through clawing rock and burning gas for thousands of years, as was customary. When it stopped plunging she was in hell. She poked around among the torment, which was everywhere. Ho hum. She dipped her toe in a
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