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paste!
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to end the late evening era, i saw with implied infravision the salamander playing in a can of paint and then it took a bath, in more paint. well before its moment of pigmented relaxation, and to begin much earlier with the brightest of all days, it awoke from heavy slumber locked up in a bank vault in solitude. it decided at that point to morph into as many things as possible (and why the hell not) in the next 12 hours, things such as non-air and lettuce_mannequins. after that decisive moment of brilliance, it gave out one piece of advice for the air-conditioned bank stationites and customers to hear: "you're moments away from the q-tip rainstorm". i was in line cashing a check when i heard this and still no falling swabs despite some serious cloud arrangements throughout the day. the salmander still has a non-general song in its head before another heavy slumber. probably in its dream: oversized motorcycles clearing the now dark and inverted moon. swish! swish!
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