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<h1>Sn? Tumor</h1>
<!-- Blog Posts
<h3>Sunday, August 26, 2007</h3>
<a name="3856594151545293373">&? ;</a>
<h2>
walking into a? </h2>
<div class="blo? t">
<d? tyle="clear:both;"><? >"So what did yo? ease up the ? -n-Slide? h?" Bill? ked.<br /><br />Lin ? . "Just water. See, ? hooked ? o the hose."<br /><br />? er?" Billy gaped at Lin, inc? ? . "That's all? What kind of ? y activity i? pan style="font-style: italic;">? ? an>?? /><br />Lin? ckled and shrugged. Anna, to? left, laughed.<br /? />"? ? need to do," Billy said, "Is gothe ? e and get si? ? en conta? s of Crisco. Then you come back here? t the whole thing in? ix-gallo? ? ot, and put it on th? ove at a hundred deg? ? 'll all be melted down a? a half-? ."<br /><br />"Why just ? ndred degrees?" Alan? ? pted. "We could jack it ? o three hundred,? it ? ter.? /><br />Billy looked skeptical. "Um. Un? ? 're a Mongolian warlord, playing? h boiling oil re? isn? he best idea? ? ? game." Then he looked g? y, and continued, "U? s yo? pan style="font-style: italic;">are</span> a Mongoli? arlord. Oh, my God, I totally di? mean to offyou, I just didn? hink Mongoli? arlords were? ty f? ? t I ? ld have ? n be? ? 's n? hat I have anything against Mongolian wa? ds, or anything--in ? , some o? ? ? iend? e Mongolian warl? ." Then ? ause? ook ? eath, an? ked,? pan style="font-style: italic;">Are</spa? ou a Mongoli? arlord?"<br /><br />Alan looked ? ? ed. "Uh, no.? ? e Mongolian warlord friends, huh?"<br /><br />Billy cleared his throat. "Uh,? t of. Not so much an? e." ? ighed.<br /><br />"Oh?" said Anna, amused. "? ? pened?"<br /? />"Well? aid Bill? eluc? ly. ? 's just say ? ? should be grateful ? I'm? and? inclined to take any of my ? hes off.? /><br />"Whoo," said Alan. ? I'm? ? ted. Go on."<br /><br />"Ah, it'? ? hat I wa? ? goo? iends with a Mongoli? arlord." Billy c? ed h? hroat again.? least, until I ? t with h? ister."<br /? />"? shit," Lin said gleefully. "What'd he do?"<br /? />"Well, he? tured me? ? ee days stra? ? t ho? ly...I c? ? stand where ? as comin? om, you ? ?"<br /><br />"J? , th? ? rible," said Anna.<br /><br />Billy ? gged. "Not as horrible as what he did to? ? ter for cheating on him.? /><br />The? ire room groaned in delighted di? t. "My God," saian. "Where d? ou meet ? ? ?"<br /><br />Billy nodd? lowly. "Yeah, I met him in a? . I was ? ing ? he c? ? hen ? alked in? h a priest, a rabbi, and an eight-fo? all duck."<br /><br />The room e? ed i? ? and? d la? er. Bill? ood up and bowed. "Now..? ? ? st heard the? ? alk-in-a? ' joke of alme. Am I right?" He smiled myste? sly, and the room filled? ? ? se.<div style="c? ? ? adding-bottom:0.25em"></div><br />
<div class="byline"? ted by Hugh VanDerGoetz&? ; # <a href? tp://snarky.tumo? b-ab? .com/2007/08/walking? o-bar.ph? itle="permanent link">10:50 AM</a> <a href=? ps:/? .blo? .com/com? .g?blogID=5131062399532573109&postID=3856594151545293373"locatio? ef=h? ? ww.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5131062399532573109&? ID=3856594151545293373;><spa? yle=? ? ansform:lowe? e">0 Com? ? pan></a>? pan ? s="item-? rol blog-adm? id-1556466247"><? yle=? der:none;" href=? p://www.blogger.com/? -edit.g?blogID=51310623995325731? ostID=385659415154529337? itle="Edit Post"><img class="icon-action" alt="" src? tp:/? .blo? .com:80/img/icon18_edit_allbkg.gif" height="18" ? h="18"></a></span> <? >
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<h3>Mo? ? ? 20, 2007</h3>
<a name="1117923598296177364">? p;</a>
<h2>
N? ou d? </h2>
<div class="blo? t">
<d? tyle="clear:both;"><? >Ric Campbell was sitting in? age? office when he walked in.<br /><br ? ? ? y odd to be ? ing at himself, and ? ? stood, br than a? ror could have ever told him, why there was such a f? ? er him. God. Pretty.<br /><br />"Whoa. What the hell?" he said.<br /? />The lamp on his a? 's minim? t de? uddenly brightened and dimmed, and anoth? erson wa? anding i? ont of h? here? ?