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I took a few steps down the Northern passage. It wasn't until I took a few more steps that I realized my jugular vein had been latched onto by a rabid cyborg zombie. I tried something characteristically retarded to get it off of me, but failed, and died a sad death which would have been more fitting for someone like Fooruman, in my opinion.
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"Silly mens room prophecy," I said as the toilet exploded. The prophecy had been fullfilled.
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