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The Butterknife

Marissa glanced uneasily at the greasy butterknife that sat on her kitchen table. Upon inspecting it closely, she found that though caked thick with the white grease, the knife had a variety of crumbs, all in different stages of the molding prosess She could still see her own reflection, even though the knife crumbs covering the knife were moldy. There was just enough unmarred metal on the blade that she could tell it was, indeed a knife - otherwise, she might have thought it a pen, a crust of bread, even a scrap of paper, for it was thoroughly encased in a rotting shell of old crumbs. The knife was one of the many barely recognizable items in this house.

Marissa's heart thumped rapidly as faint memories arose in her head her local doctor informing her of the deadly crumb allergy she possessed. She stepped away wearily. It seemed to be that whenever she blinked she was diagnosed with a newly discoverd disease or illness. The latest one was known as Cyanotrichosis. It was a good thing blue was her favorite color, because it was here to stay. She had so many diseases, conditions, and allergies, she held the world records for Most Allergies, Most Diseases Contracted, and Most New Diseases Discovered. But the butterknife continued to taunt her. She needed the butter and that knife was the only one in the house.

God she hated her life. Cutting some butter turned into a freaking problem, dammit. I guess I'll ask the neighbors to help out. Her neighbors, the Vrackers very well known for their odd habits. Marissa didn't know them at all but she needed help. Like usuall. She got ready and went out and knocked on the door of their house. And waited, and waited, and knocked again. This time it was answered. Of course, this was only the begining of the upcoming horror she'll have tto face. But I'm spoiling it am I . so we'll keep going from there.

Mr. Vracker stood a mere 4 feet 10 inches tall, had long blond hair and smelled like athlete foot spray. and hot pepper with a hit of galic Marissa, overcome with emotion, started crying uncontrollably as she fell at the short man's bare, ragged and unkempt feet. Mr. Vracker, unbeknownst to many, was from a long line of Hobbit-like creatures, who incidentally have very nasty feet.

"Ah, Marissa, you have shrunk so much since the last time I saw you. And you look rather green, why is that?" His fake tan seemed to glow more with every word that he spoke. As Marrisa was facing down, she glanced at an unopened letter which had managed to get stuck under the doormat. The letter was addressed to the name 'Clarence Vracker. "Clarence!" Marissa yelled, "I need your help!". now clarence is the assistant she needed all this while and she now got him. The very fact that he is now here had made her life so much better. This is in no small part due to his 3 noses

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penultimated

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