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2003-07-14 - 12:07 a.m.

Midnight full moon. Close your eyes, count to thirteen. now backwards. say her name.

I'm spent. Does anyone know a better way I should be doing this?

Gregory Fennel cut his finger at dinner, the steak knife slicing a good half inch into his thumb, straight through the nail. Oddly, the wound neither hurt nor bled, and he became instantly convinced that he was one of the walking dead.

"What's the matter, don't like steak?", boomed his father.

"No, I don't! I hate it, I hate filthy steak!", he screamed.

Song of the moment: scooby doo theme

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