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Each Move Must Consist Of Precisely Eight Words
help
Just as it says on the tin. What happens in the game may be debated in the game: perhaps it'll be a conversation, perhaps a word-limited reprise of various games we play, or whatever.
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Bill, I think, has always qualified as "wildlife".
Sometimes I wish *I* had a wild life.
Pen, methinks wild lives are usually grately overrated.
Maybe. My dog retrieved a dead rat yesterday.
Was the rat dead before the canine intervention?
I have a very painful canine right now
I should take him to the vet pronto.
Or, perhaps, if one is closer, a dentist.
The rat was deceased, no more. And mummified.
Is it really appropriate to mummify a rat?
Maybe it volunteered - seeking paradise in rat afterlife.
No! In my mind 'Ratty' will never die.
Was it a female rat? Was it NefRATtiti?
Hard to say. Shrivelled genitals. More like NosfeRATu.
May Zarquon save us all from shrivelled genitals
He certainly did the job with Buster Gonad
Was everyone taken aback by that last one?
I thought it was a load of bollocks.
*Looks aghast, askance at Bollockbar and faints, faintly*
That's it, penelope, hit 'em where it hurts.
Friday afternoon. What a shocker of a week.
Here, have a cup of tea. Do you good.
This is just to balance the pile. (Sorry, Superman, but it had to be done.)
A dog pile? I sometimes have that, literally.
I have no idea. What's 'a dog pile'?
Is it a carpet made of dog hair?
It is Radar and Niblet on my lap.
I'm still none the wiser. What's that about?
You ought to know this, pen - they're pets.
Niblet and RAdar can make little barking sounds.
Ah. Mine's 'Chip' after potato, not the microprocessor.
Not a peep since Monday. Is everyone OK?
Busy week. Too much work. Please send cake.
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