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    When the squad comes out in full force (about twenty of them) you gawk at all of the gear they’re wearing; if you had to guess which ones were the terrorists with bombs strapped to their chests, there would definitely be some confusion. When they reach where you’re standing they only yell one question at you about where the bomb is and then slam you to the ground chest first.

    “It looks like a magic 8-ball, but it’s—,” you manage to answer before your breath is pressed out.

    Two of the men dismantle the 8-ball only to discover a congratulatory YOU WIN! message in digital letters on the inside. Needless to say, most of them don’t think the gag is funny and neither do the authorities you’re reported to after the incident.

    You make the mistake of including too much of your story including your previous encounter with another magic 8-ball, so they lock you up on suspicions. After a week or so, it’s easier to put you down as a suspected terrorist and hold you indefinitely rather than dealing with your case. A couple months later, you’re shipped over to a motel with a sign out front that reads: Lost Dakota, No Vacancy.

    The End.




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