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The textbooks for the History test that he had asked her over to study for sat closed on the table between them."Roar!" John glanced over, startled, t... see a guy wearing a T-rex costume standing by a table across the cafe. The costume featured a T-rex mask that looked like it offered no visibility for the wearer (and probably also concealed some fancy voice-changing gear; that roar sounded pretty unnatural), along with arm restraints that kept his wrists against his chest and gloves that kept. He sighed and looked at the setting sun. This was not the usual approach from muscular young men, who would often be downing their third beer and leering at the girls in shorts by now. “Isn’t it amazing?”The two young Christian girls felt that this time they were safe and let their guard down a little. The three talked long into the night about belief and faith and creation; subjects that had barely scratched John’s consciousness before. He told them of his abject failure at sport and they. The Craxill arranged us in a semi-circle around the pillar, and the male began to speak, in the human-friendly Craxill dialect."We lack a ritual for our task today, and must therefore create our own. We dedicate ourselves to the memories of our ancestors, in hopes that our efforts will be successful."Both Craxill touched their foreheads, their throats, and two more points down their bodies. Priya and I followed suit, touching roughly the same distance down our chests, since we weren't sure what. . well, after all those tears running into thick eyeliner, I looked like a panda in drag.Around me, Maid Sissy Martin's hitherto unseen dad flounced around me trying to look busy at the make-up table. She... he... didn't speak, but beckoned me over to sit on a chair by the dressing table. I stared at him as my sobs died down. He made a passable woman, a bit taller than me, but not as freakish in size as his son Martin. He was plump... especially plump around the hips and below his black satin.
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