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04/18/09 "John: Admire harlequins." You check out the shelves of FANCIFUL HARLEQUINS. It doesn't matter that it's April and not terribly chilly outside.In a home, a FIREPLACE needs a fire, because that's what FIREPLACE is for.But this is probably unadvisable, since you'd just make your room lousy with smoke! 04/16/09 "John: Select "HAMMER"." Your STRIFE SPECIBUS has been ALLOCATED with the HAMMERKIND ABSTRATUS.Your SYLLADEX'S FETCH MODUS is currently dictated by the logic of a STACK DATA STRUCTURE. They will come in handy." You first place the HAMMER into your SYLLADEX. You wonder what will happen if you try to take the NAILS? 04/14/09 "John: Take nails." You captchalogue FOUR (4) NAILS into the top card, and push all the ARTIFACTS down a card. But you probably don't want to do that again, unless you want to drop the SMOKE PELLETS and suffer the consequences. The HAMMER has been moved from your CAPTCHALOGUE DECK to your STRIFE DECK.Really it probably would have been tidier if you just used a broom and dustpan.04/19/09 "John: Put urn back." No one will be the wiser. 04/19/09 "John: Go get fake arms again." You just got another BRILLIANT idea for something to do with those pointless arms. 04/14/09 "John: Examine contents of chest." In here you keep an array of humorous and mystical ARTIFACTS, each one a devastating weapon in the hands of a SKILLED MAGICIAN or a CUNNING PRANKSTER. Among the ARTIFACTS are: TWO (2) FAKE ARMS [CURRENTLY CAPTCHALOGUED IN YOUR SYLLADEX], ONE (1) PAIR OF TRICK HANDCUFFS, ONE (1) STUNT SWORD, ONE (1) MAGICIAN'S HAT, ONE (1) PAIR OF BEAGLE PUSS GLASSES, SEVERAL (~) SMOKE PELLETS, SEVERAL (~) BLOOD CAPSULES, and ONE (1) COPY OF COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT OF MAGICAL FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY, and ONE (1) COPY OF HARRY ANDERSON'S "WISE GUY", BY MIKE CAVENEY. 04/15/09 "John: Examine incoming message." You pull up to your COMPUTER. You decorated your desktop with some rather handsome WALLPAPER which you made yourself. Your desktop is also littered with various PROGRAMMING PROJECT FILES. 04/15/09 "John: Open Pesterchum." Only one of your CHUMS is logged in. 04/15/09 "John: Open message." |PESTERLOG| -- turntech Godhead 04/15/09 "John: Look out window." You see the view of your yard from your window. In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle. The red flippy-lever thing means you have new mail. 04/15/09 "John: Go outside and check mailbox." You are about to hurry down stairs when you hear a car pull into the driveway. You decide to chill out up here for a while until the dust settles.You will have to use the pellets first in order to access the arms. 04/16/09 "John: Allocate hammer to strife specibus." You check the back of your STRIFE SPECIBUS for the KIND ABSTRATUS you have in mind for it.

To search for something, hit Ctrl F (or Apple F) and type what you're looking for. If your text is in one of the commands or captions, it'll show up here. 04/13/09 "Homestuck" A young man stands in his bedroom. You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN. 04/13/09 "Remove CAKE from MAGIC CHEST." Out of sympathy for John's perceived lack of arms, you pick up the CAKE for him and put it on his BED. For now, you decide to just take the SMOKE PELLETS. 04/14/09 "John: Examine calendar." You've marked your birthday, the 13th of April. 04/14/09 "John: Eat cake." You are sick to death of cake!!! And you have no intention of clogging your SYLLADEX with it either. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity! 04/16/09 "John: Read COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT." You decide to consult with the Colonel's bottomless wisdom. You are not sure you are ready to logjam your other ARTIFACTS beneath it just yet. In a momentary lapse of concentration, you accidentally captchalogue the arms again. 04/16/09 "John: Answer chum." |PESTERLOG| 04/16/09 "John: Combine fake arms with cake." You stick the FAKE ARMS in the CAKE on your bed.

You pry them out of the CAKE and captchalogue them. 04/20/09 "John: Examine 3rd and 4th walls of room." 04/20/09 "John: Check Pesterchum." Another one of your chums is messaging you.

04/20/09 "John: Check message." |PESTERLOG| 04/20/09 "John: Go back downstairs." You can now execute that brilliant idea you had.

A fire BELONGS in a FIREPLACE, dammit, cata(ptcha)gorically, at all times, without exception.

As domestic myth of unaccountable origin holds, a home borrows the spirit of the flame for as long as it makes a guest of it, much as the moon takes liberty with the sun's rays.

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