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Original Material is Copyrighted by BlueSkelton Productions 01 July 2004

DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. The events
described in this work are fabricated and the author
assumes no responsibility for the validity of the

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Posted at 07:53 pm by BlueSkelton
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Sep 14, 2005
I have fallen into Shadow

Strange, the things that keep man alive. My mothers love is the only thing that keeps me in this incorrigible place. But I am grateful oh so  grateful for her. Despite everything, I have conquered my fear and my despair. For she deserves better. Far better than anything I could ever possibly hope to give her. And all I have to sell are my words. But I will make myself heard. 

How great a debt I owe to my mother who has kept me alive with great pain. And I will gladly lay down all the joys I have in this life in payment of that debt. My will from this point on will not halt or falter. I owe her everything that she deserves and so much more. And it is my great wish that I can fulfill all of her greatest dreams. I enjoy every moment I have with her because she is all I have. One joy in an otherwise bleak existence. But a small part of me will rejoice when she finally goes to her resting place. That may sound cruel and it is selfish. Please bear with me on this as I explain. When she dies I will fall apart. Everything will fall apart. I will be inconsolable with grief and I will know pain of which I have yet to feel on this earth. But it is the last pain. For after a brief period of self destruction the heavy weight of my destiny will be lifted from me. And I will breathe a sigh of relief. And then I will begin my last journey to the sea. I will be released from all bonds and oaths of fellowship. My time will come to an end.

These are dark words spoken by one so infuriated by his own existence that he cannot bear to look in a mirror. No one could possibly hate themselves so much as I do. But self loathing is par for the course with the darkside. But I have controlled my anger, my fear and my hate. These are all good things. But I cannot change the fact that I am fearful and that I hate them. These sheep, these poor worthless sheep. I hate them all. And even though I am not a violent person, I do not mourn their slaughter. I am inhumane.

With the dark side comes great confusion. I wonder if the man is truly evil or whether the world is merely a reflection of my own corruption. Are the Republicans some sick joke spawned from my devious mind? Am I some existential cause of all suffering in the world. For I look at Africa and the other dark places of the world. I see the suffering of starvation, pestilences, and war. And I pity them for they have known suffering on a level I can not imagine. These people must be so strong to endure what I cannot. And what does my fellow man do about these great ills. Absolutely nothing. I live in the greatest nation ever to exist on the face of this earth. We have the power to correct and mend all the problems and evils of this world. But do we do anything about it? No we continue to slave for nothing. We slave for jet skis and hum vees. My fellow man is as weak as I am. A virus on this world destroying everything for its own glory. “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the Earth” I certainly hope so for they deserve it.

I remain a good person. I do my best not to harm any living thing. For all might be lost but I still have my mother. One of my professors this week said that “One who lacks hope lacks the ability to act appropriately.” Well I will not give up the slight hope I have of mending the ills I have put upon this world. All my anger is focused into my writing. For even though the dark side will always play a part in my destiny. I long for the days when I hold words like Family, Fellowship, and Love in high esteem. Unfortunately the first two are spread far and thin. And as for Love I am not sure I even believe in it anymore. I have never been anything more than a whore. Love is the thing that is only found in fairy tales. But it matters not. Love is not necessary. It is irrelevant just as 95% of all the people who walk this earth are irrelevant. I no longer search for acceptance I cannot have. That is what I do not understand. I am ever a nice, kind person. To be my friend all you would have to do is extend your hand. But no hands are extended and soon I fear that I would just throw them back in their faces. But I do not grieve. To be a writer is a solitary profession. If I am fortunate my words will long outlast this feeble body.

I miss the old naivety of my former self. For even though the shroud of the darkside has fallen, the veil that hides the truth has been lifted. I see everything for what it is. I have come to realizations that I should have long ago. But I know that the only thing that matters now is my words. My past is irrelevant. For the advantage of the darkside is to know both sides. I still have all my Jedi training weak though it may be. I still do my best to focus on the living force but even more so I struggle to cloak myself from sight. If they don't see me they cannot harm me. Detachment has become my greatest ally. I don't react when men mock me or girls cower in fear or laugh at my ugliness. Because it is irrelevant. All that is relevant is my task. But I do wish that I was not so disillusioned and disenchanted. But becoming jaded is just a reality of life. When you realize how corrupted everything in your life has become it is impossible to lead a jovial existence. But I can make it back someday. Unfortunately until then I must dwell in darkness and in doubt.

I wish that I were great and powerful like the mighty Achilles. But alas I am not. But there is one similarity that I am blessed to share with that mighty warrior. We are both blessed to live a short life. And for me the end cannot come too soon. And I have returned to the Gym to turn myself into the Giant hulking brute I once was. It will be a slow process. But I fear that I might have to battle frat boys or some other ill begotten foe before I leave this place. God blessed me to have a giant stature and soon I will be impressive once more.

I wish that everyone could be as cool as you bloggers. For some reason people are far less kind in real life than on the net. Bloggers are a better crop of people I guess. This blog has become my only solace and all of you are my dearest friends. Without you, I would surely go insane. Blogs do help the solitary writer maintain a small shred of human contact. You all are the reason I have not turned into a major asshole in real life. I know that I can at least have good friends here on blogdrive.

And the fun and games continue. My classes are strange. Yesterday our discussion led us to contemplate whether or not God has a penis. The teacher thought this to be quite a funny little joke but I was flabbergasted. All of the conservatives in this class are offended of which I would normally rejoice. But this guy is offensive to everyone. On a good note I was virtually silent in my discussion class. I think that if I remain so I will not come across looking like a total fool.

I saw a very funny t-shirt today as I was walking. There was this girl with a very nice rack walking by so naturally I was already prone to staring. But then I did something rare. I read what it said on her t-shirt. It said. “Not everything is flat in Kansas.” I was like Got that right You go girl. Jiggle on Jiggle on.

Furthermore I must apologize about the darkness of the previous two posts but they will make great monologues for my book (the first one anyways). Now that I am comfortable with being alone and have rejected my past I will be returning to my daily observations and whatnot. Sorry there haven't been any movie reviews but I have not seen any opportunities to watch movies. This is going to be an exciting semester. The apocalypse I spoke of below has not arrived yet and we are beginning to wonder if it is going to arrive at all. If it does not arrive however I am getting my butt to church in a hurry and spending a couple hours thanking God for loving me so much. God sure works in mysterious ways and I am glad. For without God I would have nothing. 

Posted at 10:55 pm by BlueSkelton
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First Glimpse

skullzerker by karl richardson

To understand who he was, you have to go back to another time. When the world was powered by the black fuel. And the desert sprouted great cities of pipe and steel. Gone now, swept away. For reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior tribes went to war and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all. Without fuel they were nothing. They built a house of straw. The thundering machines sputtered and stopped. Their leaders talked and talked and talked. But nothing could stem the avalanche. Their world crumbled. The cities exploded. A whirlwind of looting, a firestorm of fear. Men began to feed on men.

My life fades. The vision dims. All that remains are memories. I remember a time of chaos. Ruined dreams. This wasted land. -The Road Warrior

The Huey named Paranoid Amnesiac was on its final mission. It thundered over the jungle just above the tree line machine guns blaring into the brush. Inside the copter 12 battle hardened men were about to descend into the heart of darkness. Explosions rocked the skyline. There was no turning back. There was no coming back. This was the Kansas Wasteland and once you entered there was only one way out, and that was in a body bag with a tag on your toe. With your dog tags shredded about your neck and your testicles in your teeth. Hell was a more inhabitable place. The chopper was too low for flak but that didn't shield them from small arms fire. Bullets clinked through the floor of the chopper where the men sat sitting on their helmets. The smell of napalm and mustard gas greeted them as they approached their destination. They were headed for a clearing just at the beginning of Trench land. Smoke and fire drifted into the sky from the trenches. The shelling never stopped and everywhere the soldiers scrambled like insects.

And the Change had already begun. Only one side of human still clung to the tattered shreds of their humanity. The other side had already begun their descent into devolution. Thousands of would be Goblins crawled about the trenches and tunneled through the ground behind the human lines. The age of Tunnel rats had come.

The mood on the helicopter was grim as the platoon looked out upon the chaotic explosive atmosphere surrounding them. Hope was forsaken in that eerie wasteland. The Morning Star had come and gone but his rival never showed his face. This was war.

"Fuck Blue Skelton, I never should have joined Warlord Incorporated." Griffin said.

"At least the pay is good." Corporal Atard said.

"What good is money if you aren't alive to spend it?" Griffin shouted over the obnoxious purr of the engines.

"Don't be so negative we might survive." Corporal Atard said.

"There ain't no coming back man there ain't no coming back." The crazy machine gunner rambled.

"Yeah no shit man, we aren't called the Kamikaze Korp for nothing." Griffin Said.

Out the blue, a jovial Asian turned from the copilot seat. "You've got the best weaponry and armor of anyone in the Wasteland boys so chin up. And look on the bright side. I'll be with you ever step of the way."

"Thats a load of shit Blue, you'll duck out the minute the shit gets thick just like you always do." Griffin said.

Blue scowled. "Only if I have something more important to attend to and besides discretion is the better part of valor. You have about thirty seconds to realize that or your gonna get yourself killed first thing."

Griffin gulped Blue Skelton was not someone you wanted to make angry especially when they were about to step down onto his home turf. He decided to keep his mouth shut.

"Like I said boys, Don't worry I'll be fighting right there with you.

The chopper roared over the last of the enchanted forest and the barren clearing

in front of the trenches came rumbling into site. Almost immediately tracer fire struck the side of the chopper and the pilot of the chopper made its way towards its final resting places

"Stow your guns and sheath your swords men. Its about to get hot and hairy."

The platoon hit the ground running for their very lives. A wave of black putrid arrows came crashing down around them. As soon as the crew reached a safe distance the chopper exploded. Like I said there was no going back. Flying machines were becoming a rarity. They were only used in the direst of need. But this was one of those moments of great urgency. Blue Skelton was firing his twin pistols as he ran hitting everything he aimed at. He seemed to be impervious to bullets and he shimmered in and out of focus. What was most peculiar was how out of place he looked wearing a tuxedo upon the ragged battlefield. He dropped nimbly into the trenches just as explosions. The rest of the platoon dove in head first. Most them had already pissed their pants from the horror. No amount of fighting and

"We need to get some dragons in this motherfucker." Blue said thoughtfully.

"NO way the last thing we need in this mess is a dragon." Tak said.

"Still they can kill a lot of people in a hurry." Blue said.

"Yeah but they don't care who they kill. Everything tastes good to them." Tak replied

"True." Blue replied.

"Ok gentlemen time to part company I'm going right with whoever wants to come the rest of you are going left. But regardless, welcome to the wasteland I hope you enjoy your stay."

"No volunteers? Ok I'll go right all by myself."

Blue Skelton ran down the trenches and disappeared into the battle. The platoon never saw him again. The remainder huddled up against the front side of the trench with two men guarding both directions. The goblins saw the assault rifles and guns in their hands and made the platoon their primary the target. The very air popped and whistled as shells came down around them.

"We got to move and move soon." Corporal Atard said.

"Which direction do you think we should go sarge?" Tak said.

"Well I'm not going right that is for damn sure." Sergeant Slinkie said. "Move out lets head left."

"Where the fuck do we sleep in this place." Tak asked.

"I'm not sure if sleep is even an option at this point."

"We'll we'd better report to whoever or whatever the fuck is on our side before we do anything. I feel like a chicken with his head cut off at this point." Sergeant Slinkie said.

Makeshift rockets were landing all around them as the Goblin artillery attempted to blast them off the hell. The world was collapsing around them. The last fires of the napalm were burning out and soon the world would be covered in darkness. The fuel of the dinosaurs had run out. But the platoon still had the sparkle of life left in their eyes. If they had known what they would become they would have ended it right there with a shotgun blast to their head. But a soldier does not give up that easily. It was their destiny to become the walking dead. The republic had fallen although there was one legion who still fought a battle of futility. But unfortunately they were busy fighting off the hordes of the dark lord.

"Alright Able Company, lets get the hell out of this murder hole. Switch your guns to single fire and make your shots count. Something tells me ammo is pretty hard to find here. Our ingenuity is our advantage. Single file staggered and watch your feet. Move!" Sergeant Slinkie yelled.

As they were leaving Griffin grumbled once more. "Shit Nam was paradise compared to this place."

"Shut up soldier."

"Yes Sarge."

It was difficult for them to keep their mind on the events at hand and all of them were wondering if they had made a big mistake. In the split second they had to gather their thoughts they thought back to what had transpired over the passage of the previous months. They tried to remember what need had brought them here. But the shockwave of reality brought them back into focus as a gas shrapnel rained overhead. The company hit the deck before moving onward. War comes in snapshots.

They were the last of a dying breed. A small band of Vietnam mercenaries feeding off the old world. Unfortunately they were thrown into the new world much sooner than they would have liked. They would have been better off running drugs in the jungles of Cambodia but plague and pestilence ravaged the Eastern world as it did in many other places. Humans fought over the last inhabitable regions of the Earth and so they made their way to hell at the hands of their mysterious employer. They made one last with for the simple life before they ran into battle.

And it did not take them long to find it. The Goblin tunnels now extended behind human lines. The lines were about to fall. But that was why Able Company was there. They were to stem the tide of slaughter and equalize the conflict. They were an antithesis. They had all come from different places but now they were all together brooding in the dark. The trench came to an intersection. Disenchanted goblins were lurking just around the bend. Slaughter peaked his head out from behind the corner and was met with a hail of arrows hitting the sandbags with a thud. The arrows of the goblins were black and burnt. They had become the ugliness of mankind.

"Tak, lob a grenade theirs too many of them."

Tak pulled out one of the incendiaries and lobbed it over the breach. The ears of the platoon complained as a massive explosion of flame charred both Goblin and sandbag. But the plasma was short lived and time to move was at hand. A couple of grunts rolled out from the safety and shot the unharmed goblins in the head.

[To Be Continued]

Photo Credit Karl Richardson

Posted at 10:51 pm by BlueSkelton
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Sep 2, 2005
My Doom is Near at Hand

till the end... by Marco Paal

Bad Tidings when the apocalypse comes knocking upon my door. My situation here as become a peculiar one. And I hate it here as I hate the world. This world of man, metal and machine. My thoughts turn to my destiny and I fear that my Doom is near at hand. I try to focus on the living force but I have lost my ability to control this world. My heart turns to the sea, my two shots of heroin, and the end of all things. And I do not grieve for that is the way of the Cherry Blossom. “Do not grieve for those who transform into the force” (Yoda). But the shadow of greed hangs over me. I know that I should accept each moment as it comes but I long for better times. Gone are the light of my gentle eyes. Though my heart is still pure my eyes are filled with darkness and despair. And the mortals scatter when they see the fire of wrath burning before them. My poor yellow eyes. And constantly the darkside whispers to me to fulfill my own destruction and bring ruin upon my family. I stepped down the dark path too long ago and forever it has been a pain in the dark places of my heart. But I will do my best to maintain my faith in a God who has forsaken me for a time to walk this land. But the end cannot come too quickly. I look at all the happy people and I wonder what it must be like to leave a life that is free of sorrow. For the only happiness that I have ever known was opiate induced. I would like to say that I was happy when I was in love. But love is always followed by the deepest of pain. Oh how do I rue the day I came to this wayward place. Hope was flashed before my eyes before it was vanguished. But I should have known better. Hope has forsaken these lands. God doesn't visit here anymore. And I do not blame him for I long ever to escape the hell of this barren wasteland. The Dark music plays as I hurriedly change my plans. Soon I will seek sanctuary and a place to hide. And I dream of someday having a home. But that is not my fate. I have too many enemies and I will be pursued unto the end of my days. But now I must rest and focus what little good is left in me to weather the chaos that lies before me.

Photo Credit: Marco Paal

Posted at 05:44 pm by BlueSkelton
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Jul 16, 2005
This Wasted Land

Driven By My Memories

The world is corrupted and everything grows dark. The apocalypse is near. The media only serves its constituency and the Christian religion is nothing more than War Propaganda. Chaos will reign and evil men will fight one last battle for domination of this earth. There won't be a world for Christ to return to. Man's great joke on the powers that be. But then again, I guess it is in our nature to cheat our own vengeful Gods. But I will outlast them all. The heroin has pickled my veins and I am faster than a cockroach. And when the fools are gone and only the weakened remain, I will have my vengeance. Everyone in this wasted land will know and fear my name. Mercy is for the weak and I will punish them all. They shunned me like the mutant that I am. But they made me a freak. Only a World this fucking askew could spawn a dichotomy like myself. And for my part I hate them all. They are so fucking mainstream (Dramafiend).


Disclaimer: This is a work of Fiction not a political or religious statement. Although both heathenous and traitorous it is just the state of affairs the fictitional world I inhabit had become. Any similarities to real life is purely coincidental


Photo Credit: Kisho D'Agostino

Posted at 10:49 am by BlueSkelton
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May 5, 2005
The Black Lotus

The Black Lotus’ were outcasts long exiled from the White Lotus temple. They were the ninja to the White Lotus Samurai but not quite as inherently evil. They fought without honor and mastered the dark arts. They were the opium addicted warriors that terrified the world. They distilled a poison from the black lotus flower they then consumed. The power of the black lotus filled them with such euphoric wrath that they lost all fear or knowledge of death. You would think that the poison they found in the lotus would have slowly killed them but it only prolonged their wretched lives. They were accountable to no one but themselves and killed all who stood in their way. Long ago their White Lotus brethren attempted to hunt down and destroy the Black Lotus but in the depths of the Enchanted Forest the Black Lotus outlasted them. And then the Black Lotus disappeared into the shadows and all memory of them was nearly forgotten. Myth became legend. Despite their methods they were very different than the ninja. They had no discernable political agenda. They interacted with the world according to their own mysterious world views. They became loners and rarely acted as a united force. But they popped up now and again to do their work. They enjoyed chaos and manipulated it from the shadows. They took apprentices who were always impressionable orphans. They then molded them into the sick and twisted warriors bent on world corruption. It was even rumored that they could bend the very shadows to their will. No one but the Lotus clan ever knew the secret to their powers. Nearly an age had passed since they had left the limelight and the Black Lotus had become a fading memory. But dark rumors would sometimes emerge that they were here and there doing their dark deeds. And even though they outlasted the White Lotus counterparts by more than a millennium their deeds would become legends that would last for a thousand lifetimes.

Posted at 11:55 am by BlueSkelton
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Apr 19, 2005
The Woodland Glade

Dragon Tears

In one of the darkest parts of the enchanted forest, there was a place the sun never saw. The forest canopy was just too thick. There were stones with long forgotten runes scattered throughout. Grass and brush intermingled with rotting stone. Ruins jutted out from the ground and the place smelled like a tomb. It was here that the gates to the Black Lotus compound were located. And they say that a dark terror guarded the gates but as to what kind of terror no one knew. For no one who had ever ventured into the woodland glade had ever returned. Rumors abounded in the forest of the monstrosities that lay in its depths. And although the general location of the temple was known the path was hidden.  A garden of statuary stood guard over the path. They were not made of ordinary stone and the pious figures of the night moved and glared at the rare unfortunate travelers. It was almost as if the oppressed stone felt sorry for them and it created a very unnerving atmosphere.  It was at the end of this path that the blight of a temple stood. And if you survived the terror that stood at its gates, it was possible to see the haunted mansion that made up the Temple. Black spires patterned from Asian architecture, jutted high into the forest canopy above. It felt as if the very forest conspired against you. Strange things stirred in the air. And the whisper of the black lotus plant could be heard as it swayed in its fields. This was the path that led you to the gates.

Posted at 01:32 pm by BlueSkelton
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Apr 12, 2005
The Stoner Dragon

Guardian Dragon

The Stoner Dragon towered over the gates but he was obscured by the darkness of the night. Flecks of mesmeric light flickered like Glitter from beneath his wings. Its very presence became hypnotic. Its beauty was majestic but the captivation wouldn’t last. For some of the most beautiful things upon this Earth are also the most deadly. Both the Dragon and black lotus plant were good examples of this. For the love of the Stoner Dragon for the clan was bought with the lotus plant placed in the trough of the beast. For dragons can be quite unmanageable without some form of sedation. But in the dragon’s defense, he loved the priests as much as a dragon could possible love anything. And the dragon looked upon the compound with a stoner’s grin. For a dragon’s love is unique in that it only happens but once or twice in a thousand generations. For most dragons are either malicious or malevolent. They love only treasure and greed. But the Lotus rescued this kingly beast when it was just a wyrm and the love had been repaid a thousand times.

Photo Credit: Lisa Hunt

Posted at 02:59 pm by BlueSkelton
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Mar 28, 2005
Grab the Lotus and Run


Gunshots roared outside as the battle raged itself into epic proportions. The assailants were very near their goal. It was very fortunate for them that they knew the entrance of the Opiate Glade was underground. The above ground entrance to the glade was a deathtrap from which there was no escape. And now they were so close to their goal. All they had to do was run in and grab one or two plants and run for their lives as they hoped the chaos surrounding the compound would shield them in their escape. And just when their hope was almost fulfilled a small blue incandescent dragon emerged from around the corner. Their hearts dropped they knew what it was. It was the dragon on the blade of Blue Skelton’s mythical sword. Slowly the sword fully emerged from the corner and soon its bearer emerged as well. He was dark brunette boy with eyes that glow like an elf in the dark. His hair hung nonchalantly and waved in the small breeze in the catacomb they were standing in. He was in a very melancholy mood for they had wounded the dragon, his only friend, and killed more than a few of the monks, his only family. There would be no banter or joyful killing tonight. Blue was in a dark mood and the intruders would suffer if they failed. Their hopes turned into ash and their victory would soon be a tomb.

Photocredit: ani juranic

Posted at 03:17 pm by BlueSkelton
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Mar 25, 2005
The Random Motives of Blue Skelton


Blue Skelton should have died a thousand times but something always intervened. It is possible that his grasp on reality was so thin and that he shimmered in and out it was just so darn difficult to put a blade into him. It seemed as if he always knew just when to step out of frame. Even though he was half Vietnamese they called him gwailo or white devil because he appeared like a nightmare whenever the need of the Black Lotus was dire. And everyone wished that he would fight for something worthwhile for something other than the defense of his clan. But his motives were as ambiguous as they were random. He always went his own way. But it cannot be said that he lacked loyalty for he would always come to the aid of his friends. He was consistent in his love although if he did not know someone he would not hesitate to use them as pawns in whatever scheme he happened to be cooking up at the moment. He was perfectly happy to fraternize with evil men even though he betrayed them more often than he furthered their goals. Although he was often a positive force in the world it was impossible to call him a hero because he fought only to further his own agenda. He had lost his humanity and people became little more than a means to an end. But then again most people are sheep but Blue Skelton was not a shepherd. He would not only fleece them but send them to their slaughter. He did not believe in innocence because he never had any. The violent manner of his birth left a bottomless void where his heart should have been. And even though he appeared at the top of his game he always felt as if he was struggling to free himself from some bottomless pit. He carried a heavy doom and the Zen Master could only temper it so much. For Blue Skelton was as dark as the Zen Master’s blade he carried behind his back. But the Zen Master was capable of bending any weapon to his will such was his focus and his determination. But for Blue Skelton the blade became a power greater than he could bear and it was unknown who was responsible for its actions, the swordsman or the blade. But wrath and a malicious destiny were everything that made him desirable to the lotus. That and the Zen Master had trained him well. Although it would be the Lotus that would teach the boy ruthless combat tactics, it was the Zen Master who gave him the mastery of his family heirlooms. For the master so loved the boy that he would give him the heirlooms of his own house. And though the items had spent an eternity in an hickory box that smelled of dragons they had lost none of their potency. It was this boy that would wreak havoc on the world and the aging supervillains that desperately sought the secrets of the black lotus plant.

Posted at 05:24 pm by BlueSkelton
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