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I crouch in the corner, tense, heart pounding, trying not to hyperventilate. The waiting, the anticipation, always gets to me. I quietly thumb back the hammer.
The bandit, bearded and smelling like unwashed hobo crotch, walks into the room, clearly expecting it to be empty. He has a momentary look of surprise before I fire a 26.5mm flare into his chest.
Taking two MRE crackers and a ration bar, I make s'mores over the crackling fire burning in his chest cavity. Then, satisfied that my perimeter is once again secure, I sit down with my snack and futilely wipe dust and grease from the dim monitor before me.
Then I crack my knuckles and the ancient keyboard begins clacking.
IT IS TIME.
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Gentlemen, I have begun the next chapter of Roommates. I need to refresh my memory of where I'm at in the story; once that's finished, your patience shall be rewarded.
Yes, the mood is upon me once again: time to write.
>>23042
Well, it's flattering, at any rate. It means I write a sexy story.
Better get to it.