Nov 09 2004


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As Brigid stepped out onto the porch, she saw something that made her raise her eyebrows. Greg was lying face-down in the grass, arms and legs splayed out, looking vaguely like Wile E. Coyote after a particularly long fall off of an impossibly high cliff.

“Erm,” she said, walking over to him. “Are you all right?”

“Mmph,” he said into the dirt.


He looked up. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you, fine.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, sounding vaguely miffed. “I’m … er … I’m giving the world a hug!” He wiggled awkwardly, as if trying to squeeze the planet. “I love you, world! MWAH!”

She broke into giggles. “You tripped, didn’t you?”

He rose to lean on an elbow. “Well, yes, if you want to force it out of me. But it would have been much more gallant for you to pretend to believe my cover story.”

“You are a complete nutcase,” Brigid informed him, still grinning. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, I do, if you want to force that out, too. But loveable!”

“Well I don’t hear the world complaining, that’s for sure. But I think it would be in better taste if you and the planet got a room.”

-The Gneech

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