Sep 19 2006


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“Okay, I’ve got a question for you then,” Brigid said.

“Oh?” said Greg. “Fire away, young porcupine.”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to know just what it means to strike like thunderball. I gather it’s something that people who look at this world and want it all do … but that’s as far as I get.”

“Oh!” said Greg. “Well … it’s … um…”

“You don’t know either,” Brigid said.

“Certainly I do!” said Greg. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Well then what is it?”

“It’s … er…”


Greg blinked, moistened his lips and thought for a long moment. “No,” he finally said, tossing a hand into the air. “You’re right. I haven’t a clue. It’s utter gibberish as far as I can make out. A complete non sequitur.”

Brigid nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Still,” said Greg. “Tom Jones. That’s got to be worth something.”

“Absolutely!” Brigid replied. “That part was never in dispute.”

-The Gneech

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