• 138

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    Once you make it to the Saigon Panda and begin walking around to the back of the white building, you start having feelings of doubt followed by dread. As you turn the corner, your thoughts flicker snippets from the Winkie’s scene in Mulholland Drive and you shudder before approaching the dumpster. You procrastinate by clearing the entirety of your weasand and “BOO!” a man jumps out and yells at you from behind the dumpster.

    “HAHAHAHA!,” goes his uncontrollable laugh that lasts for the next minute or so.While he laughs and you calm your jitters down with slower breathing, you notice that he’s an African-American with a strawberry-red mustache.

    “So you’re the…” but he stops you by interrupting “I’m the one, the one, yes son. And here’s my magic 8-ball to prove it.”

    “Magic 8-Ball? I don’t remember reading anything in this message about a Magic 8-Ball,” you try to explain to him.

    “That’s right and tight. I never disclose any prose about this magical, mystical ball.” He offers it to you. “Go right on ahead, the worst you’ll be is dead, but those odds are about a kajillion to zed!”

    “And what’s zed then?,” you ask.

    “Oh, I think it comes right before you get to kajillion.”

    You take the ball in your hands anyway.

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