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Halloween
By: T.G. Browning

[-:-]

I wondered if all of her family reacted to bad beer the same way. Probably so. They came from Germany and were justifiably proud of Bavarian beer. Right on time, it started with a scream which is usually the case when a big predator starts working.

Ended on time, too.

She's punctual, I'll give her that.

[-:-]

“Had enough?”

“Think so. Washed the taste of beer out of my mouth anyway. When will Coors ever realize that they need to get a better malting process?”

“Probably in the next Halloween or two.”

“Let’s go.”

“You’re forgetting. I have some shopping to do.”

“Drat. Well, don’t be too long.”

“Shan’t. Don’t need much.”

[-:-]

“Get everything you needed?”

“Oh my yes. Thanks for thinking of me. Two spleens, three nice pair of eyeballs and a lovely scalp. You did a nice job on the scalp, by the way. Hardly any tears in it at all.”

“I want to keep your interest, after all. You’re a fun guy!”

“Hell, you know you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve always loved your fur. When you have any, of course.”

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