In a little town right outside of Reno, there is a place where they capture children, put them on clouds, and make them cry, so that all day they have rain.
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Gargantuan fleas run amock in the sewers of Trinidad. They have little messages attached to their hind quarters. I succesfully caught one of them once, and the message said, much to my dismay, "Soylent green isn't people"
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