It is twilight in the enchanted land of Abject Syzygy.
The crotated tree branches on the perimeter of the quiet little town sway with every soft breeze that whispers through them. We just dropped off 20 more apes at the clandestine meeting in our neighborhood Creamed Corn Factory and we are extremely tired. I sit back wiping the sweat from my brow. How I long for some roast exercise apparatus. Funny that, of all things should pop into my mind at a time like this. I gaze over to my left, What? Some sort of strange perverted hallucination? An abomination of my mind? I am without a clue, astounded! Everyone who knows me understands that I have this fear of (3 pronged forks). They have always made me feel most uncomfortable, though I've tried unsuccessfully time and time again to overcome this regrettable psychosis. To my left, A fork, (and mind you not just any fork.) A fork of the 3 pronged variety!
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