Apr 24 2006


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Brigid looked into the living room; Greg was still sprawled on the couch, eyes covered with washcloth. “Hey,” she said. “You okay in there?”

“There are varying levels of ‘okay’…” Greg’s voice floated up out of the wreck. “I’m not having my limbs gnawed off by zombies, for instance.”

“How’s your head?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I was writhing in agony … but I probably would go as far as to say that I was writhing in intense discomfort.”

“You’re also writhing in sarcasm,” Brigid said. “So you can’t be in too bad shape.”

“Being snarky eases the pain a bit.”

“That’s why I do it,” she said.

-The Gneech

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