Suspicion was in his face. Immediately Spurlock began to chant one of these. It was true. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. They send you every good wish. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors.
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