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Sniff | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/09/25/sniff
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. I glare at the balding little man with a red nose sitting opposite. It is bad enough to be stuck in a stationary train without having to listen to this incessant sniffing. I’ve had enough. 8220;Excuse me,” I say. “I had to listen to your wretched sniffing for the last hour. Can’t you just blow your nose? You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Follow &ldq...
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The Gangster and the Toyota | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/10/03/the-gangster-and-the-toyota
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. The Gangster and the Toyota. When Mrs Edith Bobkin took her car to the garage she was as surprised as anyone when the brutalised corpse of crime lord Derrick ‘Knuckles’ Pearce was found in the boot. The police were called, and everybody sat down with a nice cup of tea to get over the shock. The Masked Avenger turned to the burly mechanic sat beside her. From your own site. Creat...
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The Pink Pussycat | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/05/31/the-pink-pussycat
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. It was midnight in the Pink Pussycat and place was jumping. DJ Gustav was mashing-up eccentric beats with soulful grooves. Homeboys lounged at the bar whilst hipster chicks cut-up the dance floor. It was then that Big Eric took the floor and began to jive. Man, you never saw a fat man move like that. Funkasaurus was in the house. Feed You can leave a response. From your own site.
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Dragonfly | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/06/07/dragonfly
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. Bobby ran down the hillside almost tripping in the long grass. With a whoop he hurled his flying machine into the air. The little clockwork dragonfly took flight, erratically at first. Buffeted by the wind it dropped before righting itself and darting upwards; its wings an iridescent blur of blue and gold in the sunlight. Even though he was almost ten, Bobby began to cry. Blog a...
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The Final | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/06/12/the-final
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. Soccer City shook to the deafening blast of 100,000 vuvuzelas celebrating the most unexpected of finals. Grey-suited dignitaries mumbled grandiose rhetoric about sport’s unique power for reconciliation. The teams stood for the anthems of the Republic of Korea and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. Minutes later Taepodong soared into the upper atmosphere. Next Post ».
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Phenopath's Story Archive | Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. | Page 2
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/page/2
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. June 23, 2010. Would you do something for me? Picture in your mind the last time that you saw your family. Was it dropping the kids off at school, or perhaps saying goodbye to your girlfriend as she left for work? Now think carefully. In the background do you see a tall thin man wearing a black hat; maybe standing in the street or staring through the window? June 12, 2010. The l...
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Vacation on Praxis | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/10/22/vacation-on-praxis
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. I confess that when I awoke from my vacation for one blissful moment I forgot who and where I was. Sadly, the view of the grey bulkhead a handsbreadth from my nose reminded me of my occupation, my whereabouts and, most depressingly, my companions. I have spent the last four years holed up in this dismal little mining station on Praxis (a dismal little moonlet in an erratic orbit...
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The Nasty Man | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/06/23/the-nasty-man
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. Would you do something for me? Picture in your mind the last time that you saw your family. Was it dropping the kids off at school, or perhaps saying goodbye to your girlfriend as she left for work? Now think carefully. In the background do you see a tall thin man wearing a black hat; maybe standing in the street or staring through the window? Feed You can leave a response.
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Sewage | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2011/01/09/sewage
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. Meanwhile at Portland Municipal Sewage Works…. Gabe regarded the young engineer with contempt. He wore those fancy wire-frame glasses and a look of disgust which indicated that, unlike Gabe, he still had a sense of smell. Both men looked across the vast pool of sewage which bubbled alarmingly. They’re delicious.”. Gabe retrieved the cigarette from behind his ear. All in the mind.
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All in the mind | Phenopath's Story Archive
https://phenopath.wordpress.com/2010/05/29/all-in-the-mind
Phenopath's Story Archive. Whatever lurks at the bottom of the turbid fishpond is not a fish. The Koi Carp are all gone, eaten. All in the mind. Dr Miles Munroe strode imperiously down the subterranean corridor, pausing occasionally at one of the numerous security doors at which his elegant fingers would tap a security code, register at a biometric scanner or complete an elaborate logic puzzle. The security at Dr Munroe’s personal New Jersey laboratories was certainly comprehensive. Freud called it the e...
