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Flash Fictions
Precision Instrument
Tacks are our friends. Not just mine or yours, but ours together. Like the tastee ham and ice cream, tacks and us make a great combination. You sound skeptical, or is that a respiratory problem? Have you ever looked closely, really really close at our friend the tack? God no, of course not, you shout and shout until you pass out in a pool of blood. Well, I know why. It's your fear. The fear, not of the tack coming to life and violently stabbing your eyeball, but of the dark mysteries hidden within our dear molded plastic and metal spiked friend. Like a roller coaster without the roll, peanut butter without peas and butts, or pus without that odd garlic smell, you must understand that our good friend the dark and happy tack will only kill when provoked.
Raising rabbits is not easy. No, no it's really not. If you get scared, e-mail me and I'll calm you down. Things being what things being.
