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ROB strides across the EMPTY ANTARCTIC wastes --- stepping carefully to avoiding PENGUIN wastes --- with an INTENSE, FEVERISH LOOK on his face. |
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All right you little . . . ! |
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ROB MUTTERS and GRIMACES. He STUMBLES, STOPS and HOLLERS into the DISMAL DARK VOID. |
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| Oh, I see! You penguins talk big when you're hacking into a guy's blog and taking cheap shots at him! But when I fly all the way down here to the South Freaking Pole to have a little parlay vous face-to-beak you are conveniently nowhere to be found! |
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ROB SHRUGS and ADDRESSES the READER. |
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So, Dear Reader. . . blog technology is imperfect. I can't figure out how Los Penguinos are getting in here . . . I apologize for the inconvenience. Pay them no nevermind. |
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