It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. I’ll be waiting for you outside. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him.
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