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| What do you say when food falling out of the sky threatens to displace a computer-programming witch? | |
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| I don't know. What do you? | |
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| Manna, don't take my coder crone away! | |
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| Ha ha. That really made up for the incessant anguish of iron grinding against bone in the ragged, infected pulps I used to call hands and feet. | |
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